


Ginny's Christmas List

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-07
Updated: 2007-12-28
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: A holiday story.  It’s not the gifts under the tree, but what’s in your heart that matters.





	1. Chapter 1 - Hurting Human Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** It's the Christmas after Harry's defeat of Voldemort and the Wizarding world of Britain is rebuilding.  Ginny sees suffering and despair all around her and wonders how anyone can celebrate Christmas, but maybe her Christmas list will give a new meaning to what's really important.  This story will be multi-chaptered and will end on Christmas Eve.

 

What happens in the wake of undeserving misery?  How does life move forward following years of suppressing terror and chaos?  Can a hurting human soul be healed?  What does it take to begin the journey?

 

It all starts with a wish.

 

Ginny Weasley sat alone in her bedroom, her solitary sanctuary.  Even though she had slept for days, she still felt drowsy.  Her limbs resisted the effort to move as she lay back on her bed.   It seemed too much to ask to bring her to a standing position.  The bones only felt weak, helpless to carry her through another day that would only echo with the mournful looks of friends and family.

 

Her pillow crunched as she looked to her left, the picture on her calendar seemed to tease her with the memory of what was once a glorious place--a place of safety and comfort.  It was her home away from home.  The tall towers of Hogwarts stood proud in the photo that topped the December calendar, their stone spires solid and gray against the blue of the sky.  She sighed looking at the diagonal lines marking through each exhausted day, finally focusing on the present.  Saturday, December 5, 1998.

 

Bill’s birthday had just passed.  The family had tried to gather, but it seemed more and more like they would have to bump the celebration for a few weeks.  Everyone was so spread apart and the reconstruction efforts were taking so much time that is was next to impossible to get the family to the Burrow for a day.

 

Ginny pulled back the quilt, yawning through a heavy sigh as she sat up and looked over her room.  Her torn denims lay on the floor by her bed, still filthy with the remains of dirt, concrete dust and grass.  Examining her hands, Ginny frowned at the dry skin, calloused in places from all the manual work she had been putting in at the castle helping to rebuild.  Spells could accomplish quite a bit, but plenty of manual effort had gone into it as well.

 

Still, a shower would do her wonders and she gathered some clean clothes and shuffled toward the bathroom.  As she did on most days, she paused near her parents’ room and listened.  It had been months and the frequency had decreased, but once again, Molly could be heard crying through the bedroom door.  She never did it in front of her children, but Ginny knew it had been an almost constant occurrence in the confines of her room.  It always seemed to slow time to a crawl on those days when Ginny heard the sobbing through the gaps in the door.

 

For once, Ginny dared to knock and actually speak to her mother.  She knew the source of the tears: Fred, always on her mind, always missed, leaving a gaping hole in her heart.  Ginny missed him, too and it took all her strength to keep from crying herself when witnessing her mother’s lost composure.

 

“Mum?”  She pushed the door open gently, swallowing nervously over what she might see.

 

“Yes, dear?”  Molly sat on the edge of her bed, frantically wiping her red and puffy eyes.  Quickly, she stuffed the handkerchief into the pocket of her cardigan, trying to appear busy with fluffing the nearby pillow.  

 

Ginny knew it was silly to even try, but she had to say it.  “Mum, please don’t cry.”  

 

Walking toward her, Ginny noticed that Molly looked away, her cheeks quivering slightly.  Her hair was a mess, uncombed, her clothing shabby and uncared for.  Despite the efforts of Ginny and her father, Molly had fallen into a depression, no longer caring for herself or her home the way she used to.  She still managed to cook the meals and do the laundry, but all else seemed to be left to deal with itself as she retreated to her room several times a day.

 

Ginny noted the antique looking hairbrush on the bed table.  It was a Prewett family heirloom.  She picked it up and started to brush out her mother’s hair.  Somehow, the idea seemed comforting like something she would welcome if it were done to her.

 

“I miss him, too, Mum.”  She felt her cheeks tighten and struggled to push the feelings back down into her stomach.  “We all do, but you know, Fred wouldn’t want us crying about him all the time.  He’s probably up there developing some new way to charm the pearly gates to erupt in golden angel wings whenever they open or something.”

 

She had hoped for a faint smile, perhaps a chuckle.  Instead, Ginny received a surprised confession from her mother.

 

“I took a life.”  Molly’s voice was flat, the statement very matter of fact and she drew in a deep breath that stuttered as she exhaled.

 

“What?  You aren’t feeling sorry about Bellatrix, are you?”

 

Molly didn’t answer, only dabbed her eyes again and Ginny was struck with the thought that there were actually two facets to her mother’s sorrow, one she clearly hadn’t considered before.  Trying to get past her own disgust at thinking of the vile woman, she focused on her mum, composing her thoughts as she knew her mother would do for her if she were in this situation.

 

“Mum, she was a wicked, wicked woman and she deserved everything she got.”

 

Molly blinked slowly.  “I know dear.  I wouldn’t have let her harm you.”  For the first time in weeks, Molly reached up and stroked the cheek of her daughter.  It was a simple, loving gesture that made Ginny’s heart want to burst.  Such gestures had been rare in the preceding months and she missed the tenderness that only a mother could give.  Just as quickly, her hand dropped back to her lap, limp as if that single effort had drained her of all happiness and left her empty again. 

 

 “Still, the idea that I actually killed someone…well, it seems to gnaw at me.  I feel at times like I need to be held accountable in some way.  After all, she was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister.  I broke apart a family, just as they did mine.”

 

“I don’t think she is missed all that much, Mum.  You may have actually done her sisters a favor.  You know she hated Tonk’s mum.”

 

Molly sighed again, finally mumbling quietly.  “Perhaps I only have to account to myself.”

 

Ginny nodded.  What else could she say?  Despite her wishes to argue with her mother on this point, it was clear that the goodness in her was what caused this anguish.  If her mother didn’t feel guilty, the lack of morality would linger like a tarnish on the center  support of their family.  It only made Ginny love her mother more, knowing that she valued life so greatly that even Bellatrix’s loss was discomforting.

 

Stroking her hair once more, Ginny placed the brush back on the table and knelt down in front of her mum, trying to get her to meet her eyes.

 

“Why don’t we get some of the Christmas decorations out?  We could start sorting through them and put the house in order.  What do you think?”

 

“Perhaps, dear.  I think I’ll take a little nap first, but maybe we can look through them later.”

 

Molly tipped back onto the pillow, turning away to curl up.  Ginny grabbed the ends of the folded quilt and pulled it up over her before quietly leaving the room.

 

All during her shower, her heart ached for consolation.  She had to see Harry.  He was the one bright spot in her life, the answer to her prayers so she dressed quickly and Apparated to the Ministry building.

 

Harry and Ron had both been recruited for the Auror’s office almost immediately after Voldemort’s downfall.  Somehow, Amycus Carrow escaped, his sister Alecto still bound and hanging from invisible ropes where Professor McGonagall had left her.  They had been hunting for the elusive Death Eater for months now.  As if that wasn’t disquieting enough; the entire department and the Ministry itself was being overhauled.  Most of the purebloods were fired from their posts, either due to some nefarious connection with the dark arts or because they had been bewitched and needed time to recuperate.  Some had been hired back immediately when it was clear that they had not taken Voldemort’s side.  Others were still being interrogated six months later.

 

This left mostly half-bloods and a large population of muggleborn witches and wizards in control of the government.  Despite wizarding Britain feeling that it was for the best, several other countries did not agree.  The eastern block countries sent teams of visiting pureblood ambassadors and representatives, taxing Kingsley Shacklebolt with political threats when he was already juggling the massive undertaking of reorganizing the government.

 

Once such group stood just feet away from the lifts, as Ginny approached, her only thoughts focused on reaching Harry’s office.  She paused, overhearing conversations in languages she didn’t recognize.  Hoping she could quietly excuse herself and cut through the mob, one very tall, dark, intimidating man looked directly at her and spoke louder.  It was clear that he was displeased about something as he squinted at her and rambled off something she didn’t understand.  However, the final word hit her like a brick.  

 

“Muggle?”

 

Her eyes shifted to the others in the group that were now scrutinizing her as if they weren’t sure whether to sneer or raise an approving eyebrow in her direction.  Her stomach twisted as she realized that this must have been how those poor muggles felt waiting to be questioned by Umbridge all those months ago.

 

It was pure self-preservation that made her speak.  “Pure-blood.”  Almost immediately she felt a wash of guilt, as if stating her pureblood status decreased the value of the lives of so many of her friends.

 

As suspected, the tall man notched an eyebrow and gave a somewhat tilted smile, stepping to the side with a nod that meant she was free to proceed.  Only then did she notice the heavy thumping in her chest and stepped quickly forward, brushing the robes of the dignitaries as she reached for the button on the lifts.

 

Staring at the grills, she could feel the heat from their eyes burning on the back of her head as the lift made an uneasy approach.  Seconds later she burst through the door, hit the button and pressed her back against the side of the lift, trying to remove herself from their view.  One floor down, the lift opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped on.

 

“Ah, Miss Weasley.”  And then, realizing his error his eyes lit up.  “I’m sorry.  You’re going to level two aren’t you?”  She nodded.  “I’m going to the atrium.  Do you mind if I ride with you for a moment?”

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“I have a group of rather dimwitted, but powerful ambassadors waiting in the lobby.  Not my idea of a pleasant day.”

 

“Yes, I just passed them.”

 

“Cheerful fellows aren’t they?” he offered with such thick sarcasm that Ginny rolled her eyes in agreement.  “Where are you off to?”

 

“Stopping in to see Harry.”

 

“Ah!  Very good, very good.”  The lift stopped and the doors opened.  “Enjoy your visit Miss Weasley.”

 

“Thank you Minister Shacklebolt.”

 

Clearing the grate, Ginny took an immediate left and followed the hall, finally approaching the door to the Auror’s Department.  Her heart still banged, but she realized it was less due to the recent encounter and more in anticipation of seeing Harry and finally latching onto his comforting arms.

 

Opening the door, she ducked as an interoffice memo flew just over her head and then looked around the small waiting area.  The lady at the nearby desk raised her head at the sound of the opening door and smiled cordially, a bright clip shining in her heap of brown hair.

 

“Miss Weasley.  Good day to you.”

 

“Hello, Mrs. Thatcher.  Would you mind calling Harry for me?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

She flicked her wrist and a silvery wisp flew from the end of her wand, scampering down the hallway.  Ginny almost found it amusing that the two hundred and fifty pound receptionist could have a chipmunk patronus.

 

Biting her lip, Ginny shuffled a bit nervously as she waited, only stilling when she noticed Mrs. Thatcher’s eyes lift up.  Her heart felt so full with worry and sorrow that the moment Harry stepped into the room she flew at him, totally unconcerned with anyone else’s reaction.

 

“Gin?  What’s wrong?”

 

He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her head against his shoulder, the relief pouring through her like warm butter on a stack of pancakes.  His hand moved into her hair, his voice soothing as he shushed her into a calmer state.

 

“I’m sorry.”  She wanted to say more, but the moment she edged out those two words, the tears pushed out of her eyes and she knew that nothing she said would be clear.  She hated being like this.  It wasn’t her normal self and made her angry.  She just didn’t get all sappy and sentimental over things.  Taking that frustrated energy, she sucked in a breath, stepped back from Harry and cleared her throat.

 

“Come here.”  Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her into the next room, bending a corner, he headed into his office.  Well, it wasn’t strictly what you’d call an office; it had no door.  But, it was somewhat enclosed and separated from other workers with enough space to provide a bit of privacy when needed.  Harry pulled her in, stepping forward to wipe away the remains of the tear tracks on her face.  His green eyes deepened with concern as he studied her face, his hands resting on her shoulders.  “Now, what’s going on?”

 

“I don’t mean to act so foolish.  I’m sorry to come bursting in here like this.”

 

“You’re not foolish and you know that I love to see you.”

 

“It’s just that Mum…”

 

Before she could get out another word, a nearby door opened and several voices grew louder, obviously approaching Harry’s office which was the only one in this area.

 

“Potter!”

 

“Yeah.”  Harry stepped back from her and into the doorway.  Ginny sunk down into the nearby chair and tried to look pleasant for whoever might be approaching.  Harry clearly tried to block their view, but not being a real tall man, they still noticed her.

 

“Oh, hi!”

 

“Hi!”  She waved back with as strong of a smile as she could muster.

 

“What’s going on?”  Harry asked, sounding as if he was attempting to rush them through.

 

“Got a lead, but we have to act on it soon.”

 

“That’s great.  I’ll meet you in the debriefing room in a few, alright?”

 

Both men nodded, glancing back at Ginny once more before they turned and left.  Harry’s head tilted to follow their exit and once he heard the door latch, turned back to her, pulling up a chair to face her.

 

“Sorry about that.  I only have a minute.  What’s going on with your mum?”

 

Ginny twisted her hands in her lap.  “It’s just that no matter what I do, what any of us do, we can’t seem to get her out of this depressive funk that she’s in.”  Her eyes fell to the floor.  “And…and…well, it’s Christmas time and everything just seems so sad.  I don’t even feel like having Christmas.”

 

“Maybe if you get her involved.  Have her help wrap gifts or decorate.”  Then his eyes lit up as if just discovering the ultimate cure.  “You know how she loves to make her Christmas list each year.  Tell her you need her to make the list.”

 

“Honestly, Harry, I don’t know how we could think of any gifts to give anyone this year.  Her only Christmas wish is to have Fred back and I don’t think Father Christmas can help with that.”

 

“Oi, Potter!  We have to go!”  The voices bellowed from the other room and Harry’s head jerked back.  “Just a minute.”

 

It was clear that despite his desire to help her, to stay and talk more, he was needed and he probably blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.  “Well, then you’ll have to make the Christmas list this year.”

 

For a frozen second, she looked at him and felt drawn, that familiar sinking feeling that usually preceded a kiss, but before she could lean toward him, he hopped up, pushing the chair back.  “I’ve got to go, Gin.  I’ll try to stop by later and we can talk some more, alright?”

 

As the space increased between them, Ginny settled for blowing him a kiss as he retreated through the door.  He waved and then was gone.  The visit wasn’t nearly as satisfying as she had hoped, but it gave her a sliver of ambition, just enough to get her through the day.

 

Offering a brief “goodbye” to Mrs. Thatcher, she exited the office and started back down the hall, her mind on what to get everyone in the family.  Harry was right.  She might just have to play the part of mum this year if they were going to have a Christmas.

 

Not paying attention to anything but her own thoughts, she jerked to a halt when a body stepped out from the hallway on her right.  It took a moment to recognize the face of Andromeda Tonks, a small, bundled Teddy in her arms.

 

“Oh!  Sorry.  I wasn’t looking where I was going.”  They had only bumped gently, but Mrs. Tonks looked clearly displeased.  However, it didn’t take long to realize that her expression was not a result of their collision.  Ginny tried to get her bearings and then noted that they were just down the hall from the Family Courts wing.  Family issues were settled here, away from the main courtrooms.

 

“Mrs. Tonks.  What’s wrong?”

 

She clutched the baby tightly, pulling back from Ginny as if he was in danger of being stolen away.  “Ginny?  I apologize.  I didn’t recognize you.  We’re just…”  She looked down at the sweet face of Teddy Lupin, asleep in her arms, a shock of pink hair peaking out from under the blue knitted cap.  

 

“Why were you in Family Court?”  Ginny could easily sense the distress on the woman’s face and felt thoroughly confused.

 

She grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hall a bit more, clearly wanting to be out of earshot of any Ministry officials.

 

“I was notified that because of Teddy’s parentage, they are concerned about his well-being.”

 

“I don’t understand.”  Ginny spoke, but got an immediate “shush” to lower her voice.

 

“They’ve never dealt with the child of a werewolf and they think for his own safety and for that of mine, that he should be placed in a special home where he can be safely restrained during the full moon.”

 

“No!  That’s awful.  They can’t do that!  Can they?”

 

“They know nothing about him!  He’s fine.  A perfect little boy.  Nothing happens during the full moon.  I’m sure that he hasn’t inherited anything but a sharp wit and pleasant disposition from his father.”

 

“Well, then you shouldn’t have to worry, right?”

 

“They don’t believe me.  They brought a team of expert healers who said that he could transform at anytime and tear me to shreds.”

 

They walked a few more steps, now approaching the lifts once again.  Ginny had an urge to run back to Harry’s office and track him down.  As Teddy’s godfather, she knew that he would have something to say about this.  He wouldn’t let them do this to his godson.  However, voices broke the silence behind them and with a look of panic, Mrs. Tonks ran to the lifts, Ginny on her heels.  She banged on the button, whispering fiercely.  “I won’t let them have him!”

 

Stepping onto the lift, she only relaxed when the doors closed and they started back toward the lobby.  “Ginny, he’s all the family I have left.  I’ve lost so much.  I can’t lose him, too!”

 

“I know, Mrs. Tonks.  I’m sure it will all work out.  Harry won’t let them do this.  I’ll tell him.  I’ll tell anyone who’ll help.”

 

“Thank you, dear.  I’ve got to get him home.  He’ll be hungry soon.”  The lift opened to the gleaming black floor of the main level.

 

“Yes, ma’am.  Have a…”  Ginny almost offered Christmas greetings, but then thought it would be inappropriate.  “Goodbye.”

 

Mrs. Tonks walked quickly toward the nearest Floo and was gone in a burst of green flames.  Ginny made her way home, the thoughts of the day swirling through her head.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Missing Half

 

Ginny woke the next day, thankful to find her mum in the kitchen.  Slowly she chewed on her toast, her eyes tracking her mother’s movements, looking for any signs of distress.  Molly would most likely clean the breakfast dishes and return to her room.  Ginny managed to bring down one box of decorations the night before, but it sat untouched in the corner of the room.

 

Focusing on the task at hand, Ginny tried another tactic in hopes of spurring her mum into action.

 

“What kind of cake are you making for Bill’s birthday?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, dear.  I suppose I’ll make chocolate whenever we find a time to gather.”

 

“I’m going to head out to Diagon Alley and look for a gift.  Do you want to come along?”

 

Molly paused, her hands on the counter, looking down at the soapy dishes that were resting in the sink.  Normally, they’d be scrubbing themselves to a shine, but it was like Molly didn’t have the energy to even perform the necessary spell.  This concerned Ginny almost more than anything else.  Could she actually lose her magic?  Could this depression have a physiological impact on her magical abilities?  It was terrifying to even consider, but she had heard of similar situations.  Neville’s parents had been very powerful, but now couldn’t even produce accidental magic.

 

“Mum?”

 

“You go ahead, darling.  I’m tired.”

 

“Please Mum, come with me.”  She tried one last desperate attempt and for the first time, she actually got a solid, yet surprisingly curt response.

 

“I don’t feel like going, Ginevra.”

 

Molly slammed down a dishtowel and headed back up the steps.  It hadn’t been her intention to make her angry, but she felt relieved at having aroused any type of strength from the woman.

 

Grabbing her robes and scarf, Ginny Apparated to Diagon Alley turning the corner onto the main street and passing the apothecary.  She wasn’t sure what to get Bill, but decided that a quick trip to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes was in order.  She hadn’t seen George in a few weeks and considered he might have some ideas.

 

Approaching the store, it immediately struck her that something was amiss.  The usual store-front displays, colorful signs and teasing products were no where to be seen.  The door sign said ‘Open’ and someone did just walk out, but it didn’t appear bursting with clientele as was the norm.

 

The bell over the door rang as she entered, wiping her feet on the small entry rug and shaking off a light dusting of snow that had fallen all morning.  A plump mother, holding two similarly plump children, was examining something in the first aisle.  The shelves were full with inventory and Ginny recognized the names, items that the twins had invented over the past two years.  A shrill voice punctured the silence on her left as another mother slapped the hand of a rather precocious looking six-year old who was trying to ingest everything he touched.

 

Ginny’s brow furrowed, wondering why no one was out in the shop helping the customers and she walked toward the back  room calling out for her brother.

 

“George?  Hello?”

 

Pushing aside the curtain that hung over the entryway, she stepped into the back room.  George sat on a stool, various items resting on the work bench in front of him, but his eyes stared out the window, not at the items on his work surface.

 

“George?”

 

He jerked, brushing several purple, claylike objects onto the floor.  “Ginny!”  He bent down, picking up the items that had now rolled in different directions, spewing something foamy as they turned.

 

“Sorry, let me just get these.”  Finally gathering the last handful, he waved his wand over them and they returned to a claylike state on this table.  “What are you doing here?”

 

“Well, that’s a nice greeting.  Aren’t you happy to see your sister?”

 

“That depends.  What are you up to?”  He tipped his head to the left and Ginny’s eyes followed his movement.  It was eerie, but they both seemed to expect a matching comment to come from some invisible body that stood beside George; almost like a disembodied head would jump forth and make some rude comment.  Instead, George sat silently and Ginny had to replay his question in order to answer.

 

“I just came over to see you and also, see if you had any ideas for a birthday gift for Bill.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right, it was Billy Boy's birthday this past week wasn’t it?  I’m sorry we couldn’t make it to the Burrow.  Maybe he’d…”

 

Again, there stood a pause, as if waiting for the rest of the sentence to be finished, but no one spoke.  Ginny also couldn’t help but notice how he used the term ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ when making his apologies.

 

“Maybe he’d like something new you’ve developed?”  She did her best to finish George’s thought although she knew that it was a lackluster substitute for the way that Fred had always been on the same wavelength with his brother.  Always thinking alike, the two could talk for hours without either one actually completing a whole sentence on their own.

 

George would smile and appear his usual self, but then just as quickly, the smile would drop off his face, just like it had fallen into some unsuspected sink hole.

 

Ginny wanted to tell him about their mother.  She was desperate for help or advice –anything to help her, but it struck her almost immediately that gratifying as it might be for her to share her concerns, George was not the person to share them with.  She knew that losing Fred had been almost unbearable for him.  Outwardly, he appeared to go on and even tried to fill the air with his usual jokes, but he was simply lost – a missing half of the whole that had no hope of completeness ever again.

 

“Something new.  Yeah.  That’s the ticket.”  George started out into the shop, walking down the aisles, his face displaying a kind of vacant pleasure.  Ginny followed, hoping desperately to get him involved in the activity and out into the shop.  After looking through aisle after aisle, George would stop, stare at an item as if to declare “Eureka!” and then would soften and mumble, “nah, that’s too old” or “he’s seen that.”

 

The little bell announced another visitor and Ginny noticed Lee Jordan walking through the entry.  He smiled brightly at Ginny and walked up, offering a hand.

 

“Hi, Ginny!  Good to see you!”

 

“Good to see you Lee.”

 

She noted how Lee’s gaze jumped to George as well, meeting hers in a similar look of concern.

 

“So, George, how’s business today?”  Before even getting an answer, he walked brightly down the aisle to the plump lady, offering assistance with a cheerful voice.  Within minutes he had sold the woman a basket full of items, rung them up and sent her on her way.  George perked up a bit and started restocking a few items.

 

With Lee there, George appeared much more attentive and soon they had found something for Bill.  Ginny turned to Lee before she left, her eyes conveying the meaning much more than the words.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Stepping out into the snow, she considered whether this would be a good time to start working on that Christmas list – maybe a bit of window shopping.  Loud banging noises caught her attention and she made her way around the corner, heading toward the center of Diagon Alley.  A mass of people were moving to and fro through the center of the square.  At first glance, it appeared a rather odd mixture of marble and colored lights and Ginny squinted to try and make out what they were doing.

 

However, as she got closer, it became clear that two distinct projects were going on at once.

 

Harry had mentioned that the Ministry was erecting some kind of memorial for all those who had perished in the final battle.  They wanted Harry’s likeness on the memorial, but he refused, saying instead that it should be simple and solemn--something that represented the courage and fortitude of all those who fought at the Battle of Hogwarts or lost their lives trying to defeat the dark forces.

 

A large black marble obelisk was set in place at the center of the square.  It looked somewhat like Gryffindor Tower, but could have represented any part of the castle.  A replica of the Sword of Gryffindor protruded out of the base, the marble blade etched with the date of the battle.

 

All along the base and sides, the names of those who died were carved:  Tonks, Lupin, Weasley, Creevey, Dumbledore and others.  They were easily accessible, something Harry had insisted upon.  It looked very heavy based on the number of wands that were  utilized to move it into place.  

 

As if in direct contrast, another crew busily assembled the Father Christmas display which always sat in the center of Diagon Alley.  However, due to this new memorial, the traditional gingerbread house was moved between two other shops.  The multi-colored lights and bright candy trim looked almost garish against the marble simplicity directly behind it.  But the bright-eyed children didn’t seem to mind.  Their thoughts, oblivious to any battle, stood firmly fixed on what they would tell Father Christmas when they sat upon his knee.  And, most parents looked pleased at both settings, for only they understood the significance of the marble and relished the joy of the candy canes in their innocent children’s faces.

 

Ginny watched for a while, her memories drifting back to a happier time when she used to sit on a red velvet knee and recite all the glorious things she wished for.  Her parents had always impressed upon the children not to be greedy, to ask for one special item, not to bog down the jolly man with a mile long list; for other children deserved a gift as well.  So, every December the Burrow would find a room full of red-headed children, dressed in footed pajamas and flannel gowns, hunkered down with quill and parchment, whispered giggles filling the room as they wrote their Christmas letter.

 

Then mum would read them all over, ‘just to make sure everything is spelled correctly.  We don’t want any mistakes with your presents, do we?’ and then they would all dress in their warmest clothes and Mum and Dad would march everyone down to Diagon Alley where they’d climb upon that large red-velvet knee, hand him the letter ‘so you have a record and don’t forget’ and whisper the deepest desires into his ear.  Bill and Charlie would usually stand to the side, telling the rest that they weighed too much to sit on Father Christmas’ knee, but she still saw the joy in their faces as they handed over their lists, smiling at their mum and dad in the process.

 

Ginny’s last visit to the jolly white-haired man was when she was eleven.  Back from her first few months at Hogwarts, she wondered why no one else would go, not believing the rumors that had flown around the school.  That was the year she dared do that which her mother had always warned her not to do.  She handed him her list and smiled, happily asking for a new broomstick.  Then, with everyone looking on, she turned and whispered something else into his ear.  Everyone asked what she had said, but Ginny kept it to herself all these years.  That second wish remained a secret and to this day she ignored the naysayers for she knew that Father Christmas had come through with both of her requests that year.

 

After reminiscing for a few moments, Ginny felt strangely at peace and smiled.  Within minutes she walked into the Burrow, stripped off her robes and went to check on her mum.  Determined to stay in a cheerful mindset, Ginny marched into the kitchen.  Molly sat sipping a cup of tea at the table.

 

“Hello mum!”  She kissed her on the cheek and then headed straight to the pantry.  Ginny began removing flour, sugar and cinnamon.  Turning to the small cabinet beside it, she rummaged through the contents, pulling out several cookbooks and laid them all on the table next to Molly.  Ginny knew she might not get the desired result from her mum, but even if not, they would have some Christmas biscuits and muffins for the holiday.  Besides, seeing the holiday decorations had put her in the mood.

 

“Doing some baking, dear?”

 

Ginny flipped the book open, thumbing over the pages until she found the one she wanted.  It had always been Fred’s favorite and she hoped that it would stir something within her mum.

 

“This one.”  She placed her finger on the spot.  “I’m going to make this one.”  Grabbing her mother’s apron, she started pulling out bowls and spoons, cups and baking sheets.  Molly looked stone-faced at the book until a soft pop drew her attention, followed by a knock on the door.

 

Hermione’s voice sounded pleasant as she greeted her mum at the entrance and they spoke congenially as she entered the kitchen.  Once again, Ginny’s focus turned to her mother, hoping that visitors would perk her up.  Molly must have thought that Hermione’s presence gave Ginny some company, no longer requiring her to be in the kitchen.

 

“I’m going to head off to bed.”

 

“Mum!  Don’t you want to help me with the biscuits?”

 

“You’ve got Hermione, she can help just fine.  I’ll see you ladies tomorrow.”

 

Ginny shoulders slumped so deeply, Hermione looked like she might have to catch her as she dropped her head in exhaustion.  After glancing toward the steps to ensure her question wouldn’t travel beyond the two of them, Hermione placed a comforting hand on Ginny’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry, Gin.  I shouldn’t have come over.  Is she like this all the time?”

 

A quick nod answered Hermione’s question.  Her first inclination was to rip off the apron and go to bed herself, but the counter was covered with ingredients just waiting to be used.

 

“Would you care to help me make some Christmas biscuits?”

 

Hermione took a half-step back.  “I’m not much of a cook.  You might not want me helping.”  

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.  Here, measure out a cup of those nuts and put them in the bowl.”

 

Hermione started on her assigned task before Ginny thought to ask the question that had struck her originally.  “So, why did you come over?  Just stopping in?”

 

As if Ginny’s query had reminded her that she was angry, Hermione puffed a strand of hair away from her face.

 

“Don’t tell me….my brother has done something stupid again.”

 

“He just gets on my nerves sometimes.  The man is stubborn and….”

 

“And?”

 

Hermione dumped the nuts and tossed the measuring cup into the sink.  “Chauvinistic and…”

 

Surprisingly, Hermione’s little tirade was actually amusing and Ginny smiled as she continued to question her.  “And?”

 

Before Hermione could answer, another pop emanated from the living area and two more voices filled the house.

 

“…but ze are my parents!  You knew when you married me!”

 

“We didn’t get married in France!”

 

Fleur was striding through the kitchen door, her hair whipping wildly around her flushed face.  Bill kept stride and it appeared was using his height to try and intimidate her as he stood very close and stared down at her just as she crossed the threshold.  Fleur clenched her fists in rebuttal.

 

“I am going, Beel!  And zat is final!”

 

Ginny had never witnessed an argument between Fleur and her brother.  Theirs was a relationship of mutual understanding.  Seeing them all riled up like this was quite a surprise and she openly gaped at their exchange.  Luckily, Hermione cleared her throat, drawing their attention to the fact that they weren’t alone.  Bill seemed to latch on to the fact and decided to use Hermione to his advantage.

 

“Hermione!  Will you please tell her how unsafe it is to go to France right now!”

 

“Eet iz not unsafe.  Just because you do not vant to see my parents does not mean zat I cannot see zem.”

 

“I never said that!”

 

“Admit it, you are afraid of vat they will say ven you tell zem about Gringott’s.”

 

Ginny finally snapped out of her trance, recognizing how the volume in the kitchen would surely cause even more stress for her mum.  When she spoke, it was only based on thoughts of her mother’s reaction.

 

“Will you stop yelling!  Don’t you think mum’s had enough turmoil around here!”

 

“Here?  Try ze turmoil at our home.  I need to leave.  Tonight!”

 

Fleur pulled out her wand and with a twist she was gone.  Bill popped away as well, clearly intent on following her.  After all that yelling, the kitchen rang with silence.  The two girls gazed at each other with a look that indicated neither one could explain what the other had seen.

 

“I don’t think I ever want to get married if it’s going to be like that.”  

 

“What do you think she meant about Gringott’s?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 


	3. Chapter 3 - And Justice for All

  
Author's notes:

Ginny is dealing with a lot right now and things look awfully sad, but stay with her and your other favorite couples.  A Merry Christmas may be just around the corner if you keep wishing for it!

* * *

 

Ginny and Hermione apparently put all their nervous energy into the baking because the following morning the countertops were covered with containers of biscuits and muffins, scones and tarts.  The bathroom mirror reflected long red hair still covered in a white dusting of flour.  At least it was the start of a new week and put Ginny into the same routine she had followed for the past six months--dressing in her work clothes and leaving her home for Hogwarts.  The reconstruction of the castle was in its sixth month now.  Too damaged to reopen in the fall, everyone was hopeful that a January start would be attainable.  Many of the sixth and seventh year students came back and helped rebuild.  The ones, like Ginny, old enough to Apparate, would live at home and spend their days at the school.  Others would live in the dorms for brief periods.  Parents took turns away from work to help as well.  Actual wizarding construction crews were hard to find.

 

The Ministry was in shambles following the final battle.  Resources were stretched thin and Minister Shacklebolt was constantly shuffling personnel to try and help those who needed it most. 

 

Professor McGonagall, despite her age, took on the reconstruction project with vigor.  Professor Flitwick became her second and Hagrid proved more able than most, trying to return the castle to its previous splendor.

 

At the start of each week, everyone would meet in the Great Hall, the first room to be rebuilt.  The house elves had taken the task of remodeling the kitchens to new heights and they proudly prepared breakfast and lunch each day to the myriad of workers who gathered in the large room.  Once breakfast was finished, the supervisors would go through the work lists for the week, assigning those in attendance to groups with specific tasks to complete.  Supplies would be issued and by nine o’clock, everyone would be hard at work.

 

The days were tiring and yet offered Ginny a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that seemed to sustain her.  Her mother’s grief, her boyfriend’s absence, her brother’s vacant tendencies – they all weighed on her heavily.  At times each had a depressing effect and at times they manifested themselves into rage.  The calloused fingers, scraped knees and dirty clothes provided a form of therapy, a place to work out the anger through tossing rocks or lifting her spirits when looking at a completed project.

 

She suspected the same was true for many others who looked at their torn up hands and then to the top of a newly rebuilt tower in amazement at recognizing their own part in the task.  More than once she heard Neville screaming as he put his shoulder against a heavy load, only to see tears in his eyes a moment later.  All of wizarding Britain was suffering, but by doing so together, the lives of each became stronger and more united.

 

Several mornings later, Ginny dropped her rucksack near a bench and took a seat in the Great Hall as was the custom.  On this day, however, a group of students were huddled around several copies of the Daily Prophet.

 

“What’s so exciting in the paper?”

 

Neville Longbottom lowered his copy of the paper, shaking his head.  “I almost wish the Prophet were publishing nonsense again, just so I wouldn’t have to believe that any of this was actually true.”

 

“What is it?”  Ginny asked again, now a bit more concerned.

 

Neville had become a leader of the effort at Hogwarts, just as he had been the leader of the student opposition during the battle.  It seemed that Hogwarts had become synonymous with Neville’s name.  So, when he spoke, most would stop and listen.

 

“It appears that several foreign governments have started publishing propaganda about the fact that muggleborns are running the Ministry.  They sent a contingency of representatives to Britain insisting that this practice be stopped or there would be consequences.”

 

Ginny grabbed a scone as Luna also appeared, taking the bench beside her.

 

“Yeah, I ran into a bunch of them at the Ministry on Saturday.  I mean, what they were doing there on a weekend was bizarre.  They had definite pureblood tendencies and Minister Shacklebolt told me he was heading off to meet with them.”

 

“You spoke with the Minister?”

 

“Yeah.  He shared a lift with me.”

 

Luna interjected, her lofty voice waving on the air.  “Did you see Harry?”

 

“Yes.  He’s fine.  Working hard as usual.  Him and Ron both.”

 

Neville continued reading aloud as though Ginny’s comments didn’t concern him.  “The new Durmstrang headmaster, ZoltanVarga, has become an even stricter force than the previous head of the school, Igor Karkaroff.  He met with several wizarding officials at a multi-national conference on the preservation of magic in Budapest.  ‘We are deeply concerned with the muggle takeover in Britain.  The pure bloodlines that sustain our kind have been threatened with extinction.  If the muggleborns take over wizarding Britain, whose to say that they won’t try for France next and soon the wizarding race will be overrun, ultimately weakening the abilities that we have spent centuries trying to build.’”

 

Ginny cut in.  “That’s a lot of nonsense.  Why would they think that the muggleborns are going to take over?”

 

Neville cut in again, folding the paper over to a new page.  “Oh, here’s something even more pleasant.  ‘The trial of Dolores Umbridge went into its second day today.  It is reported that Harry Potter will be a witness for the prosecution and many are lined up near the Wizengamot’s main courtroom hoping to get a picture or a few words of the wizard savior.  Yesterday’s transcript read like a glowing biography of the accomplishments and credentials of Ms. Umbridge.  Sitting quietly in a pink dress with matching shoes, she smiled as witness after witness came forward to testify to her sparkling personality and resolute belief in justice.”

 

“Ha!”  Hermione interjected, sliding onto the bench beside Ginny.

 

Neville continued, “However, this reporter has heard rumblings that those witnesses may have been compensated or promised certain favors in exchange for their testimony.  If this can be proved, Ms. Umbridge will certainly find herself on the wrong side of Azkaban’s gates, but if not, then it may mean an acquittal for the former Headmistress of Hogwarts.’ “

 

Hermione interjected again.  “That toad had better not get off!  How could they even consider letting her go free after everything that she did!  I mean she almost used the _Cruciatus_ curse on Harry when he wouldn’t tell her about the D.A.!”

 

Anything that involved Harry always sent Ginny spiraling and this was no exception.  “I know!”  Then lowering her voice, she sneaked in, “That little bitch!”

 

Neville was the one to put a calm voice to an otherwise explosive situation.  “Yes, she wasn’t nice at all and it certainly isn’t fair for her to get off, but then right doesn’t always win.  Look at the Aurors trying to hunt down Amycus Carrow.  He’s still on the run and now they’re saying he killed some woman in Sheffield.”

 

Ginny rallied back, her eyes blazing in defense.  “Right _does_ always win.  Harry didn’t go through all of that for nothing!  He made sure of it and these other people should pay for their crimes!”

 

“They will, Ginny.  They will.”  

 

Winter had definitely settled in and therefore most of the work had moved inside of the castle.  Enough of the exterior had been rebuilt to keep the main living areas relatively warm and so, instead, the workers concentrated on interior rooms.  Ginny spent a couple of evenings taking Harry’s advice and starting up a Christmas list, however, by week’s end it had some rather thought provoking edits.

 

 Harry – ??

Mum – ~~New apron~~ closure

Dad – Handheld wireless

Bill – ??

Fleur – Silver hairbrush

Charlie – Gloves

Percy – ??

George – something to ~~inspire a new product~~ fill his missing half

Ron – Broom detailing kit

Hermione – Quill set  

Unsure about what to get several on her list, she tucked it away, hoping that she’d come across something in the next few weeks.

 

The front grounds of the castle had taken the brunt of the battle and over the course of the past six months the blood had been washed away and some of the gaping holes started to sprout threads of grass again by October.

 

Ginny and Hermione were finishing up their work for the day and walking past the windows lining the main entrance when a figure on the lawn caught Ginny’s attention.  Stopping, she peered out the glass wondering who would be standing in the cold on a day like this.

 

“Professor?”  Hermione questioned, turning a knowing gaze at Ginny as she pushed open the doors.  The frigid air stung their faces and they both wrapped arms around themselves as they hastily shuffled down the stone steps.

 

Minerva McGonagall stood perfectly still, examining the contents of something in her hand.  Even as the women approached, she never moved.

 

“Professor?”  Ginny spoke softly.

 

Finally, her watery eyes lifted to meet Ginny’s question.

 

This time Hermione asked.  “What’s the matter?”

 

Without speaking a single word, Minerva turned her gaze back to her open palm, a single tear dropping from her eye and skirting across the broken shard of wood.  Ginny recognized what appeared to be part of a wand.  She assumed that the Professor had discovered it out on the front lawn and that would mean it had most certainly belonged to someone they knew.  But who?

 

“Ash with Essence of Pixie.”  The air between clouded with a puff of warm breath as the Professor described the remains.  

 

Ginny tried to speak kindly, for it was obvious that finding this reminder was painful.  She stepped a bit closer and placed a shivering hand on the Professor’s arm.  “Do you know who it belonged to?”  

 

“Yes, Ms. Weasley.  It was Colin Creevey’s.”

 

“Oh…”  Ginny couldn’t help but feel the moisture build in her eyes.  She hadn’t expected this.  She had only come out to investigate, to offer support to the woman who now showed clear emotion over the splintered reminder of a young boy.  It was like opening a photo album and seeing his face over and over again.  Why was this so upsetting?  She didn’t know him all that well.  Ginny thought back to what she told Harry about being foolish to cry and yet, her eyes seemed to demand that she accept the tears – that she embrace them and allow them to flow, to remember, if only for a few moments, a smiling young man who fought so bravely.

 

Squeezing her eyes shut to clear her vision, Ginny sniffed catching Hermione wiping her own face once before nodding her head with instruction.  

 

“We need to take this inside and find a proper spot for it.”  

 

She only managed to remain still for a moment before the temperatures took over.  Ginny rubbed her arms and shuffled her feet a bit, trying to stave off the incessant cold.  She hoped that she could entice the older woman to come inside, even if on the pretext of escorting them out of the frosty weather.

 

Luckily, Hermione’s touch seemed to spur the Professor toward motion and they walked along side her into the castle.  Wordlessly, they accompanied her to the Headmistress’s office.  Entering the room had a comforting affect.  How many times had they all been in Professor Dumbledore’s office, watching his whirling gadgets spin and the mountains of books smile at them just like the wise old man had done?  At least this space wasn’t damaged in the battle.  

 

The professor opened a glass-cased bookshelf and withdrew a blue, velvet-topped box, setting it carefully on her desk.  The women’s eyes met each for a brief second before turning back to the ornate looking box.  The professor opened a side drawer on her desk and pulled out a white cloth.  Ginny thought it looked like a handkerchief, but she wasn’t sure.  Opening her wrinkled hand, Professor McGonagall lifted the remains of the wand with great reverence and lowered them slowly onto the cloth, folding it over several times to ensure its safety.

 

Slowly lifting the lid, she placed the tiny wrapped item into the box.  Ginny was dying to know the contents of the container and noted how Hermione was craning her neck just slightly, trying to see for herself.  As if recognizing their curiosity, the Professor turned the box toward them and opened the lid.

 

Hermione gasped first, drawing Ginny’s attention to the fact that its small dimensions were deceiving for it appeared the size of an adult casket, lined in satin and holding a large variety of objects.  She recognized several other wrapped white bundles with perfectly tied ribbons, each bearing a label that described the contents.  Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth and Ginny knew the emotion that she was trying to restrain as she read.

 

‘Remus Lupin – left shoe’, ‘Nymphadora Tonks Lupin – lock of hair’,’Fred Weasley – piece of shirt’ and about twenty others - all remains found in and around the castle during the reconstruction and she had placed them in here for safe keeping, each handled with solemn tenderness. 

 

All three women looked at each other, their eyes matching in a blur of tears.  Ginny would have probably held it together had it not been for the Professor’s profession of despair.

 

“These were my students.  I should have taught them better.  I should have helped.”  Her throat tightened until the sound of pain escaped – no longer words.  Soon all three fell into each others arms, weeping over the memories contained in the box below them.  Ginny found her fist gripping the Professor’s robes, even as Hermione sobbed onto her shoulder.

 

They stood there, shaking in grief for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a minute.  When Ginny’s grip loosened, the Professor sunk into her chair as if nothing was left to hold her up.  Hermione was using the side of her sleeve to dab at her eyes, her back turned from the other two as if shameful for her emotional outburst.

 

Ginny hadn’t really cried since the battle.  She did tear-up at Fred’s funeral, but had decided to give part of the eulogy and had resolutely built herself up for the task, unwilling to get emotional when describing the fun-loving Fred that they all knew and loved.

 

Her mother’s sobs were the only thing that brought her close, up until now.  Somehow, reading their names and knowing that a little part of them was wrapped up in a bow, stored with care at the place where they perished – she lost all composure.  A scrap of Fred’s shirt seemed to make it so real, as if he were still wearing it and smiling at her as he waved his wand in battle.  Fleetingly, she wondered if Hermione and the Professor had remained as stoic as she, if this, perhaps, was an outlet that all of them had needed.

 

The three of them gathered themselves and walked back to the Great Hall.  The workers were saying their goodbye’s for the week and walking out the doors, ready to Apparate once through the gates.

 

“Are you Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger?”  A young man with a dirty face and bright shining eyes stepped up to them.

 

“Yes.”

 

“These came for you before.”  He reached out, passing two envelopes, each containing a different handwritten scribble of their names.

 

Ginny recognized Harry’s handwriting instantly and based on the speed with which Hermione was opening hers, she knew it had to be from Ron.  Being separated like this, the women at the castle, the men at the Ministry – it put a definite strain on their love lives and ultimately suppressed any romantic ventures.  Sending and receiving letters, therefore, became the mainstay of their relationships, each recognizing the needs of the many before dealing with their own personal desires.

 

Hermione turned, smiling and sat down as she opened hers.  Similarly, Ginny found a bench and broke the seal on the envelope.

 

  _Dear Ginny,_

_Things are really busy here.  We have solid leads on Carrow and I really hope we’ll have him locked away in Azkaban soon.  How is the reconstruction going?  What was your job this week?  You know it will be odd when you and Hermione go back to finish school.  I’m betting a thousand galleons that Hermione will be lined up at the entrance doors the minute it opens._ _I suppose Ron and I should consider finishing ourselves, but we are getting a lot of training here.  I guess you could say we’ve found our calling._

_I stopped in to visit your mum the other day.  She actually came out with me for lunch.  I thought you’d like to know.  I see what you mean, though.  He wasn’t even my own_ _brother, but I miss Fred a lot, just like I miss the others.  I’ll do anything I can to help her, but I think it may be just a matter of time._

_Thanks for letting me know about Teddy.  We can’t let them take him from Mrs. Tonks.  I’m looking into finding some experts to testify on our behalf._ _I also owled Professor McGonagall about setting up an award or a scholarship in Sirius’ name.  At least he’s been pardoned, but I still don’t think that people realize how he suffered in there for no reason.  I’m still getting resistance from some people.  They hear the name and just associate him with Death Eaters.  I find myself defending him all the time._ _Anyway, I think he would really have liked the idea of a scholarship.  I want it to recognize students who show real loyalty and friendship to others in the school.  What do you think?_

_I’m sorry to tell you that I’ll probably be away all weekend.  I know you wanted us to get together.  If we can just find Carrow and end this I promise things will change and we’ll see each other more._

_I do miss you, Gin._

_Ron sends his best._ _Have a good weekend._

_Love,_

_Harry_

Ginny sighed, folding the letter back up.  _Another weekend apart_.  It was like having a ghost for a boyfriend.  She thought after being separated all of last year and with the fighting over, their lives would go back to normal.  

 

A passing worker bumped her shoulder and she looked up, releasing another exasperated breath.

 

“Oh, sorry.”  The brunette stopped and offered a hand.  “You’re Ginny Weasley, right?”

 

“Yes.”  Ginny took the hand and they shook.

 

“My name’s Marissa.  I’m from America.  We all heard about what happened with your school and a bunch of us came over to help.”

 

The girl looked close to Ginny’s age, but Ginny surmised that she must be a bit older or she’d be missing her own classes.  Her smile was, admittedly, infectious and Ginny couldn’t help but return her own.

 

“Th-thank you.  I don’t know what to say.  We really appreciate it.”

 

Marissa’s face turned somber for a moment.  “I’m really sorry to hear about your brother.  We saw his picture in the paper.  Everyone in my town has followed the news of the war and well, we felt really bad about it.  A lot of the students wanted to come and help, but our parents were afraid for our safety.”

 

“I understand.”  Ginny nodded and Marissa seemed to brighten up again as if waiting for acceptance of an apology.

 

“Anyway, at least we can help you now.  Us witches have to stick together right?  Besides I hear there are a lot of handsome guys over here.  We heard about this Harry Potter and I guess he’s quite a dish, but I have a thing for red-heads.”

 

Hermione’s head snapped around at the mention of Harry’s name, but eye’d the woman at the mention of red hair.  Ginny knew that look and Hermione was definitely listening with a jealous ear, for if this girl even thought of latching on to _her_ red-head, things would not be pretty.

 

“Me, too.”  Ginny gestured toward her own copper strands.

 

The girls both laughed for a moment before Ginny cut in with her own possessive statement.  “Oh, by the way, Harry Potter’s off the market.”

 

“Oh, well.  Listen, we just got here a bit ago.  Can you tell me a place where I can go this weekend to get out a bit?”

 

“Are you living at the castle?”  Hermione had finally joined the conversation, still watching the girl with a questioning eye.  “Oh, sorry, I’m Hermione Granger.  Nice to meet you.”

 

“You’re Hermione Granger!  You were with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?  The famous trio!  Wow.  I’m really honored to meet you!”

 

Hermione’s face scrunched up in a sort of flabbergasted wonderment over this girl’s reaction.  “Thanks.”

 

“To answer your question, yes, I guess I’m at the castle for now.  It’s just kind of quiet with no one to talk to.”  Her hazel eyes twinkled with a kind of fascination at being in this new place.  Ginny liked her immediately.  Thinking back to Harry’s letter, she knew her weekend would be pretty open and the idea of taking Marissa around sounded rather fun.

 

“If you’d like, I could take you around some this weekend.  I’ve got some Christmas shopping to do, but you’re welcome to join me.  What about you Hermione?”

 

“Sure.  Sounds good.”

 

Marissa’s smile grew even wider and Ginny noticed peripherally that Hermione, too, looked pleased with the idea. 

 

“That would be great!”

      


	4. Chapter 4 - Everyone Needs a Friend

 

Saturday morning brought with it a kind of cheerfulness that Ginny hadn’t experienced in quite a while.  She still longed for time with Harry, but this Marissa girl was funny and bright, and she really looked forward to showing her the sights.  Hermione agreed to meet them for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and then they were going to Diagon Alley.  Marissa needed new clothes, having already torn the ones she packed.

 

Besides, Ginny wanted to look in on George again.  His distant behavior really worried her the previous weekend.  At least her mum looked busy this morning and she hadn’t heard any sobs coming from her room in several nights.  She was hopeful that Harry’s comment about her needing time would be true.  Six months surely wasn’t all that long, but at some point, she hoped her mum would turn a corner and she’d find closure.

 

Ginny Apparated to the castle, found Marissa and then side-along Apparated her to the Leaky Cauldron.  Hermione was already inside.  After a quick lunch, they tapped on the familiar bricks at the back of the pub, each one shifting and sliding, rearranging the wall to form an opening to the secret entrance of the wizarding shopping district.

 

It was sunny, but quite cold and most were scurrying between shops to limit their exposure to the elements as much as possible, scarves wrapped around faces and mittens covering hands.  After stopping at Madam Malkins – where Marissa seemed delighted in the variety of wardrobe choices – they found themselves only yards from George’s shop.

 

“I didn’t know you had such a problem with homeless wizards in Britain.  Is this from the war?”

 

Keeping their noses buried in their coats for protection, Ginny and Hermione had to glance up to find the source of Marissa’s question.  She nudged her head to the side and the girls blinked in surprise, nearly running into each other as they stopped to double-check their vision.

 

Narcissa and Draco Malfoy huddled outside of a nearby shop.  Their white-blond hair stood out in bright contrast to the red of their cheeks and noses as they stood, hunched up against the cold, hands in their pockets.

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say they’re homeless.”  Hermione interjected, although it appeared strange the way they were standing out in the cold, each looking a bit bewildered at their surroundings.  

 

“They certainly look pitiful.”  Marissa replied, continuing to walk, prompting the girls to stop staring at the unusual image and follow her toward the shop.

 

The bell announced their presence as a blast of warm air welcomed them into the building.  It was probably due to the Christmas season, but the store looked relatively busy.  Ginny immediately searched for George, but didn’t see him.  However, she wasn’t surprised to find Lee Jordan happily working the register, as if he were one of the owners himself.  She thought to herself that she really should find a better way to thank the man for everything he had done to help George.  He had really gone above and beyond to keep the shop afloat.

 

Marissa quickly found some items of interest and her face lit up at the colorful objects lining the shelves.  Ginny pulled off her mittens and lowered the scarf that had been wrapped around her face as she made her way toward the back of the store.

 

Lee thanked a gentleman for his sale and turned to greet her just as she approached.

 

“Hi, Ginny.  Back again?”

 

“Yes, well, I’m still working on the holiday shopping and I brought along a friend.  She’s from America – here to help with the reconstruction at Hogwarts.”

 

“That’s brilliant that is.  Do you have a minute?  I mean, can we talk?”  Lee glanced over the store and must have felt that no one was in immediate need of sales help for he took Ginny’s arm and pushed her into the far corner of the room.  Ginny’s eyesbrows rose questioningly.

 

“Ginny, I’m leaving soon.  I have a job offer.”  Ginny took a quick second to contemplate what this all meant.  “Look, I really thought long and hard about this.”  Lee shook his head as if even now he remained undecided.  “I don’t want to leave George.  I’m worried about him.  I don’t think he’s even eating half the time.  He looks thin and he said he doesn’t sleep well.  And yet, this offer is really good.  My parents said I’d be a fool to turn it down.”

 

Ginny nodded, understanding Lee’s dilemma, although her thoughts had shifted quickly to George and how Lee’s absence would be like pulling the rug out from under him.  Lee seemed to be at a loss for words.  He looked down, examining the carpet, his eyes shifting about as if searching for a solution that should be lying there like a pin amongst the piles.  Finally, rubbing his forehead, he looked her square in the eye.

 

“I’m sorry, Ginny.  I love your brother, but I really have to take this job.”

 

“How long?”  Ginny asked, trying to plan some kind of counter operation that could go into effect before his exit.  What it would be, she had no idea, but she began to consider taking the job herself if it meant keeping George fed and under a roof.

 

“I have to leave before Christmas.  The new job starts first of the year and I have to get settled beforehand.”

 

Ginny spun around looking for Hermione in hopes of getting some advice, but was puzzled to find her near the door, staring out the window in the direction of the small shop and the two huddled figures they had seen coming in.

 

“Lee, do you know anything about why the Malfoys are standing across the street?”

 

“Oh, yeah.  I saw them when I came in this morning.  They were down a ways, but I guess they moved.  Seems that after You-Know-Who’s downfall, Lucius lost a lot.  He had to sell the manor and I hear that the family is not doing well.”

 

“Where are they living?”  Ginny asked, trying to spy them through the glass as well.

 

“I’m not sure, but a bloke that was in here yesterday said he saw them coming and going from a small inn just outside of town.  I see them out here a lot, but you know with their history and all…most people are not too keen on helping them.  I’ve seen some people actually chuck things at them.  I think Lucius is too proud to come out, but the wife and Draco wander about.  It’s not like they’re begging or anything…they just kind of stand there.  It’s rather pitiful if you ask me.”

 

“You’d think that Draco would get a job.”  She turned her attention back to Lee.

 

“I think he tried, but most of the shop keepers have shunned him.  After the way the Death Eaters shut everything down last year, no one wants anything to do with the Malfoy family.”

 

“But they ended up on our side…well, sort of.  Harry told me how Mrs. Malfoy actually lied to You-Know-Who and helped Harry.”

 

“She was only worried about her own skin or that of her son’s.  You can’t tell me that she’s turned all kind and good now.  She’s just like her sister.  At least Bellatrix is gone.”

 

A customer approached the counter and Lee excused himself.

 

Ginny’s thought turned back to her mother and the concern over having killed Bellatrix – having broken up a family.  Without realizing it, she found herself near the front of the store, looking out at the two figures, wondering if the woman actually missed her sister.  The suggestion that Draco’s mother could be grieving felt alarmingly odd.  Only good people were supposed to grieve.  The evil ones only deserved their fate and suffered righteously for their sins.  She caught Hermione’s eyes and wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

 

A tap on her shoulder snapped her back to reality and she smiled as she turned to see her brother behind her.  

 

“Can I help you, madam?”

 

Ginny tilted her head and offered a closed-lip grin.  The worry she had felt earlier seemed to goad her into action and she rose on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.  George looked pleased, but curious.

 

Marissa bounded up the aisle, appearing terribly excited.  “Ginny!  This stuff is great!  My brothers would love this shop!”

 

“Why thank you, Miss…”  George paused, waiting for an introduction as he glanced toward Ginny with wide eyes.

 

“Oh, George.  This is Marissa.  Marissa, this is my brother, George, and the owner of this fine establishment.”

 

“Nice to meet you Marissa.  You’re not British are you?”

 

“No,  American.  Just came to help out with reconstruction at Hogwarts.  You know, you look just like the photo of the boy who…”  

 

Marissa turned to Ginny, the impact of what she was about to say stopping her in mid-sentence.  Ginny could see that Marissa noted the similarity between the obituary photo of the boy who had died and this tall red-haired man standing before her.  Marissa licked her lips and squeezed them shut – tantamount to locking the hurtful words away -  and Ginny liked the girl even more as she quickly continued.

 

“…fought so bravely in the war.”

 

“Well, I don’t know how brave I was, but we all did our parts.  So, American huh?”  George stepped in front of Ginny as if navigating a rock in the roadway, smoothly placed a hand on Marissa’s back and led her down the aisle.  Ginny faintly heard his next comments as he smiled down at her.

 

“You have lovely eyes.  How old are you?”

 

George took her on an extensive tour of the store, going into great detail about every item she saw.  Ginny smiled, watching his face react each time Marissa would light up in wonder over some new gadget.  Hermione and Ginny waited to the point of exhaustion until finally Hermione begged away to Flourish & Blotts.  Ginny told Lee, when she couldn’t get George’s attention, that she was going to check out Quality Quidditch Supplies and would be back shortly.

 

Stepping outside, she paused, quickly rewrapping her face as the stinging wind pierced her skin.  Ginny saw Hermione, already down the street, entering the store when she turned back to catch Draco Malfoy’s figure leaving a building one door down.  A voice shouted at him from within the structure and the door slammed quite forcefully a moment later, making Draco jerk and teeter back.

 

He turned and they locked eyes.  She totally expected him to sneer at her as was the typical fashion when a Malfoy came into contact with a Weasley, but he looked more weary than anything.  As if worried that she might charge him at any moment, he pivoted around in the opposite direction and took off, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his ears tipped red from the cold.

 

She wondered where he was heading and walked slowly toward her destination, trying to give herself a few extra minutes to trace his path.  He must have noticed, because he turned briefly in her drection.  Her heart skipped a beat, her face warm in recognition of being caught following him and she turned with all haste and stepped in to the nearby store.  She felt flushed with excitement, like on a stake-out as she took cover behind a display rack and peered out of the window.

 

Her mind still focusing on Draco, she whirled around at hearing the next voice.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

A cheerful looking woman stood, hands linked in front of her, blinking patiently as she waited for a reply.

 

“Oh, no, just looking.  Thank you.”

 

The lady turned, her rather wide backside filling out a red and green plaid dress that did little to thin her proportions.

 

Ginny hadn’t meant to come in the stationers shop, but whether it was to give Draco more time to distance himself (and her heart a chance to slow) or just out of curiosity, she started to look around.  Normally, this little shop contained only the most mundane of items: quills and parchment, bottles of ink and the occasional order for invitations.  However, with the holidays around the corner, all sorts of related trinkets adorned the shelves.  Crystal parchment weights, engraved silver-tipped quills in gift sets, decorative ink bottles in twelve different colors wrapped with brightly colored ribbons.  

 

The shop looked quite festive and Ginny considered that she might actually find something for Hermione in here.  Strolling down a center aisle, her eyes set upon a black velvet lined box.  The box itself was carved and obviously designed not only for storage but as a decorative item to be displayed.  Inside, resting on the velvet cushion was an engraved wand.  It wasn’t a real wand, that much was obvious as it appeared made of some kind of marble or granite, but was most likely supposed to be a gift idea for a young witch or wizard who had either just finished school or perhaps as an award of some kind.

The etching on it gave direction to the shopper as to its possibilities.

 

‘Your message here’

 

What really drew her attention, however, was the likeness it had to another wand she had seen recently.  The little gold card tucked in the box, contained tiny writing and Ginny moved closer reading the description.  ‘This illustrious duplicate of an Ollivander original is carved to look like an Ash wand, complete with a delicately turned handle which contains a small compartment where the owner can fill the wand with a cherished substance as a special treat to the owner.’

 

Ginny’s eyes lit up as she called across the room.  “How much is this?”

 

*** 

 

Finishing her little excursion, she met the blast of cold again and hurried back to the joke shop, meeting up with Hermione along the way.

 

“Did you find anything interesting?”  Ginny asked, noting Hermione’s bag.

 

“Oh, just a few things.”  They stopped at the front door of WWW, the panes frosty with little crystal etchings in the corners, like snowflakes had settled upon the glass and never melted.  Hermione glanced inside and Ginny followed her.  “Looks like _George_ has found something interesting, though.”

 

Despite the biting wind, Ginny felt a rush of warmth as she witnessed the glowing smile on her brother’s face.  He nodded along as Marissa spoke quite animatedly over something.  He had her backed against a case, his hand resting on the shelf just above her shoulder  - the lean toward her announced obvious flirtatious tendencies.  Marissa didn’t appear to mind.  Ginny almost preferred standing outside and watching than interrupting this little vignette.  However, Hermione pushed the door open and George countered in withdrawal, still listening to Marissa, but creating a bit more distance as his sister approached.

 

“So, are you ready to go?”  Ginny asked, looking to Marissa who brushed the bangs out of her eyes.

 

“Oh, yeah.  I guess.”  Marissa looked back to George once more.  “Um…so, maybe I’ll see you next weekend?  You have lots of great stuff in here.  I’ll have to do a bit more shopping.”

 

She glanced at Ginny and Hermione who must have both looked impatient for she spun back and offered a hand to George.  “Well, it was great meeting you.  Your shop is fantastic.”

 

Instead of a shake, George lifted her hand gently and placed a kiss upon the top.  “The pleasure was all mine, Marissa.”

 

You would have thought that Marissa had just spent an hour outside and not in the confines of this warm room, for her cheeks and ears turned a rosy hue that even the bitter wind would be hard-pressed to cause.  Ginny almost looked away, sensing her gaze was an intrusion on a life-altering moment, but Marissa turned and smiled at her.  “Where to?”

 

*** 

 

The weekend flew past.  Ginny and her dad managed to put up some fairy lights and she convinced her mum to help her wrap a few gifts, claiming that she just wasn’t as accomplished as her mum and probably needed more instruction so that she could do it properly when she had a family.

 

Monday came and she found herself back at the castle, dressed in her worn denims and ready to work.  This time, however, she found herself flanked not only by Hermione and Luna, but their new friend Marissa, a piece of mistletoe anchored in her hair with a red ribbon.  She continued to shine like a bright star on the top of the tree, lighting the way toward a dimly lit happiness that they had been searching for.

 

Ginny smiled at her as she told Neville and Luna all about the wonderful places she had been over the weekend.  Looking around the room, none of the other faces looked as bright and full of life as hers – none expressed a sense of merriment in the season.  Were they all so numb from the previous years of chaos and war that they had truly lost the ability for happiness?  Surely they deserved more for giving up so much.  Listening to Marissa giggle, Ginny’s cheeks felt warm, her eyes moist as she set her heart into motion.  Things were going to change.  They were turning the corner and perhaps the Christmas spirit would find its way back to everyone who had lost it.

 

The weather warmed on Monday to a tolerable level so that some unfinished work on the exterior could be completed.  Ginny, Luna and a bloke named Maxwell were all working near the front steps when a sort of commotion broke out in the front.

 

Voices could be heard shouting and Ginny ran to look through the entryway.  Her mouth fell open and she shook her head in shock - looking akin to having been hit in the head with a bludger.  This just couldn’t be possible – not again.  Forcing herself to confirm his identity, she nearly tripped down the steps, moving closer to the figure that was now backing away from the castle.

 

Draco Malfoy walked in reverse, the hissing sounds and insults from the workers pushing him back.  She flinched when a rock sailed just past his head and he ducked to avoid the blow.  What was he doing there?  This was twice in three days she had been shocked and confused by his presence.  She strode quickly toward Professor Flitwick who supervised the work crew.

 

“Professor, what is Malfoy doing here?”

 

“He wants to help with the work.”

 

Ginny stood mute.  She truly didn’t know what to say.  Draco couldn’t have appreciated this place when he had all that splendor at his own home, could he?  Why would he want to dirty up his pretty little Malfoy hands doing manual labor?  Suddenly Ginny felt ashamed at her own thoughts and looked back at the man standing on the lawn, now a safe distance from any projectiles.

 

“The workers don’t seem to want him around and I really can’t blame them,” he said.

 

Part of her wanted to go and talk to him, yet an underlying loathing kept her back.  It was clear that no matter how much she wanted to move on, to put everything in the past, some hatred continued to linger and she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.  Slowly, she sauntered back into the castle, noting that he hadn’t moved from his spot.  And he didn’t, or so it seemed, move for the next week.  Day in and day out, he could be seen standing on the lawn, looking interested in the workers - almost supervising from afar.  The jeers and threats seemed to diminish over the next few days, but Draco kept his distance anyway.

 

As if he started a trend, they received more visitors that week.  First, on Tuesday, a young woman, holding the hand of a small girl tottered up the steps and asked if she could help.  She explained that her young wizard husband had been killed in the war and she was in dire need of housing and would be willing to sew in exchange for a bed for her and her daughter.  Professor McGonagall welcomed her and they immediately found her a dorm room.  The older students all offered to sit with the child, each finding her delightful to be with, like seeing a piece of themselves from years past that they had lost and then suddenly found.

 

More startling was the red-haired man who walked up the lawn on Wednesday.  Ginny, Hermione and Marissa were at the far end of the castle when a silvery wisp flew in the room, manifesting itself into a small fox.  Ginny recognized the Patronus as that belonging to her brother Percy who was currently working to procure supplies for the rebuilding effort.  A brief message burst forth.

 

“Come to Great Hall.  Bill’s here.”

 

All three girls stopped.  Hermione tucked a strand of errant hair behind her ear as she pushed back onto her knees looking to Ginny in surprise.

 

“Who’s Bill?” Marissa asked, eyeing both of them.

 

Ginny got up, brushing the dust and dirt from her denim-clad thighs.  “He’s my oldest brother, but what’s he doing here?”

 

“Another brother?  How many do you have?”  Marissa’s eyes glowed with wonder as she also dusted herself off.

 

“I have six and this one’s married.”  Ginny threw in that last bit only based on the excited tone in Marissa’s voice, her unforgettable comment about liking redheads and upon recalling her flirtatious moment with George last weekend.

 

Marissa got up and joined the other two as they marched down the hall, only then interjecting quietly, “I just asked.  I’m not interested in dating him.”

 

Ginny and Hermione shared a quiet grin, but kept walking, finally arriving at the large doors to the Great Hall minutes later.  Ginny couldn’t help but chance a look through the windows as they passed the front lawn – Draco perched on a rock.

 

Most people were out working this time of day, so upon opening the large doors, it wasn’t hard to find her siblings.  Percy, a bit shorter, was standing beside Bill who despite his height looked a bit slumped.  Ginny got the odd sense that something wasn’t right and picked up the pace as she approached the two of them.

 

“Hi sis.”  Bill opened his arms to her and she slipped easily under his chin.

 

“Good to see you.  So, what’s going on?”  As soon as the question left her lips, she recognized that the forthcoming conversation was not meant for public ears.  Bill kept looking about and shifted uncomfortably.  Hermione must have caught on for Ginny heard her shoo Marissa out of the general vicinity.

 

Percy looked a little troubled himself, but didn’t speak as if knowing Bill would have to share his own news.  This worried Ginny even more and her thoughts flashed back to that evening a couple weeks ago when Fleur and he had Apparated into the Burrow in the midst of an argument.

 

“I…I lost my job at Gringott’s.  I’ve been looking for something else, but well…I’m not having a lot of luck and I was thinking that I could come and help out here for a while.”

 

“You lost your job?  Why?”

 

“It’s a long story.  I really don’t feel like going into it right now.  So, can I help out here?”

 

“Sure.  I just…w-what does Fleur think of all this?”  It seemed unfathomable that Bill could lose his job.  He was their top curse-breaker and he was good…really good at his job - the best in the business.  Suddenly the idea popped into her head that something could be seriously wrong at Gringott’s.  In the process of mulling over all these thoughts she almost missed the start of his next words.

 

“Fleur left.  She went to France to be with her parents.”

 

Ginny saw the sad look in Bill’s eyes and immediately turned to her other brother, wondering if he would share the same look of concern that she knew was present on her face.  Ginny raised her eyebrows trying to prompt him to say something as she was feeling tired of playing the role of interrogator.  

 

Percy licked his lips and mumbled out a response.

 

“Um…so, she took a Christmas holiday in France, huh?”  He shrugged at Ginny.  It was subtle, but she noticed the struggle to find something to say to his older brother.

 

“We had an argument.  It was stupid and I probably said a couple things I shouldn’t have.  Then she said she wanted to leave for France, but things are not all that stable now between the wizarding governments and I didn’t want her to go.  She thought I was just trying to be controlling.”

 

“You were just worried, that’s all.”  Ginny stroked his arm, hoping her words sounded reassuring.

 

“So, she left.  I’ve been trying to contact her for days, but she won’t reply to anything I send.  I tried to get a portkey, but they wouldn’t issue me one unless it was for an emergency.”

 

Percy started to gently guide him to a nearby bench, speaking softly as he did.  “Did you talk to Dad?  He might be able to get you a portkey.”

 

“I don’t want to worry Mum and Dad.  They’re so distant since we lost Fred and…”

 

“I know.”  What else could Ginny say?  If she were in the same boat, she wouldn’t want to put anymore bad news on her parents’ plates either.  There was only so much pain a person could take and she knew Bill would never wish that upon their parents.

 

“What about Harry…or Ron?  They might be able to help.”

 

“You think?”  That was the first bright look that Bill had given since his arrival.

 

“I’ll ask them, but you’re welcome to come here and help.  Percy, can you get him settled and I’ll owl Harry?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Ginny dashed to find her rucksack and withdraw some parchment and a quill.  After quickly scribbling out a note to Harry, she ran to the owlery and sent it with a tawny but rather fat looking owl who hooted at her incessantly upon arrival.  He must have wanted a job and she didn’t feel any need to deny him.

 

Thursday arrived with a burst of warm air that everyone welcomed as they shrugged off their cloaks and took to the outdoors for some fresh air.  Several people left for an early weekend, but there was one major task left for the week and with the good temperatures, this was the perfect day for it.  A large turret was being replaced at the top of one of the towers.  A small team of wizards mastered a combination of levitation charms and actual ropes and pulleys to hoist the piece into place.

 

Meanwhile, Ginny, Hermione and a few others enjoyed the breeze as they ate their lunch outdoors and watched the action.  The young woman who had arrived earlier in the week exited the castle, the little girl by her side and approached the group sitting on some quilts stretched across the now brown grass.

 

“May we join you?”

 

“Sure.  Grab a spot.”  Ginny replied.

 

“Emily, sit down right here.”  The young mother guided her daughter to a spot and proceeded to pull a sandwich from her bag.  “Here.  Eat your sandwich like a good girl.”

 

The tiny girl was truly adorable with brown curls and the most beautiful wide green eyes.  She reminded Ginny of Harry almost immediately and she was struck with the suggestion that she might one day have a little girl who looks very similar – assuming things worked out according to her own plans.  The thought made her blush for a second before the woman took a seat beside her.

 

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.  I’m Persephone.”

 

“Ginny.”

 

“I can’t thank you all enough for giving Emily and I a place to stay.”

 

“You’re welcome!  Of course, the school will be reopening pretty soon so we’ll have to find you another home, but we appreciate your help.”

 

“Oh…I guess I should start looking for other arrangements then.”

 

“It’s not until next month.  I’m sure we could help you find a place to stay.  Where are you from?” 

 

Persephone might have said something, Ginny wasn’t sure, because her focus had moved to the fact that little Emily had tottled off, sandwich in hand approaching a young blond man who remained perched some yards away on a rock.  Draco crouched down as the little one approached with an outstretched arm offering him some of her sandwich.

 

“Um…Persephone?”  Ginny warned.

 

“Yes?”

 

Everything happened so quickly.  Before Ginny could even point toward the location of the little girl, a loud roar of voices burst out from the left, men shouting and moving quickly.  Ropes were slipping out of hands, men falling to the ground and the heavy turret began to sway.  Everyone seemed to freeze for a second as Ginny’s stomach clenched and the adrenaline rushed into her system at the pretext of giving her the means to flee.  Bill came bursting through the front doors, running at full speed as he threw another levitation spell at the large mass of stone and wood - still swaying unsecured as four other men tried to regain their footing.

 

Persephone jumped to her feet and moved toward her daughter with all haste.  It appeared as though Bill’s spell prevented a catastrophe, but just then a small chunk, a chimera of sorts, broke from the side as it swayed out and all Ginny could do was watch its descent, knowing that the little girl was crossing directly in its path.

 

Persephone screamed, gaining everyone’s attention, the piece of stone accelerating toward the ground.  Ginny jumped up, pulling her wand from her pocket and sensed Hermione doing the same beside her.  A piercing cry of “EMILY” sounded as the rock reached earth.  Hermione, running along side Ginny, reached back just as Ginny’s wand hand swished forward, words about to tip from her lips.  A resounding thud announced its arrival, vibrating the ground and knocking Ginny off her feet, but she soon noticed the absence of any more noise.  The broken piece of cupola appeared to float, the tips of the grass tickling its underside, halted by the shield charm that was pouring from Draco Malfoy’s wand.  Emily appeared unfazed, Draco’s left arm wrapped securely around her as his body twisted to put himself and his wand between the rock and the child.

 

Ginny heard several pops and wondered why people were leaving in the midst of such chaos.  The force of the shield must have knocked Persephone off her feet, for she was on the ground, resting on her elbows just feet away.  Time appeared to return to normal speed when Ginny climbed to her feet.  Maxwell and Marissa already had a spell cast on the rock and Ginny joined them, apparently just in time for Draco to let out an exhausted gasp, dropping his wand arm.  Persephone crawled and then staggered to her feet, running the last few steps to her daughter whom Draco handed over with care.

 

Bill’s voice could be heard calling out instruction and Ginny realized that the pops had been his request to get help. As she and the others held the spell in place, Ginny glanced over her shoulder and saw Persephone hugging her daughter and then offering passionate thanks to the unknown man who had just saved her child.  The pulley system which they all thought would be sufficient, weakened with an odd squealing sound just as more pops announced the arrival of others.  Everyone’s attention turned toward Bill who quickly utilized the new workers to carefully lower the turret and secure the sculptured detail which would need to be repaired.  

 

“Where’s Hermione?”  Ginny’s memory of her running along side just seconds before rushed through her stomach and she spun around to find her friend.  Hermione sat on the lunch quilt cradling her arm with Luna crouched along side, her hand offering additional support.  It was perfectly clear that she was in pain.

 

Ginny turned back, her wand still maintaining the spell.  About to summon help for her friend, the words sat motionless in her throat at the sight before her.  It reminded her of some fairy tale romance where the knight in shining armor saves the day -  her brother, Ron, came racing across the lawn, his face etched with concern, clearly focused on getting to Hermione.

 

Only then did Ginny realize that the initial impact had sent several small shards of rock scattering in different directions – the cause of Hermione’s injury rather obvious.

 

“Ginny, you can let go.  I’ve got it.”  Maxwell told her, and she did, anxious to help her friend.

 

Ron slid to a stop on his knees and appeared to be babbling in a combination lecture on safety and epithet of love-filled concern for his girlfriend as he looked her over.

 

“Is it just your arm?  Are you hurt anywhere else?  What did you think you were doing?  I told you to be careful!  It will be alright.  We’ll get a healer here in a minute.  Can you walk?  Let me help you up.  Bloody hell, Hermione!”

 

If Ginny hadn’t been so worried about her friend, she might have laughed at Ron’s emotional rollercoaster.  Besides the grimace of pain, Hermione appeared to be reacting in synch with Ron’s tirade, her face twisting from retort-filled anger to loving assurance.

 

“Ow!” Hermione yelled as Ron attempted to help her up.

 

“Easy goes it.  Let’s go find Madam Pomphrey.”  His tone was thoughtful, his movement gentle as he assisted her.

 

“I can walk, Ronald.  My arm is what’s hurting.”  They headed toward the castle entrance with Ginny trailing a few steps to the side.

 

Ron continued.  “It might be broken.  You shouldn’t be out here.  You should be back at the Ministry.  You’re too smart.  Everyone knows it!  Harry needs you at the Ministry.”

 

“I’m perfectly capable.  This was just an accident!  And, what do you mean Harry needs me?”

 

“Well he does!  I realize you’re capable, Hermione.  You’re more capable than most people I know.  It’s just…” Ron looked around and Ginny immediately sensed his wish for some privacy.  She stopped and pretended to retie her shoe, but her ears remained open and she tilted her eyes up to watch.

 

Ron leaned in a bit closer.  “We worry about you out here.  Can’t you just come back and work at the Ministry?”

 

“We?”

 

“Well, yeah.  You’d be a real asset back at our office.  Some of this legal stuff is confusing.  You’d probably have us all straight in no time.”

 

“Well, if Harry needs me so much, then he should come and ask me.  Then, maybe, I’ll consider it.”  She made a point of stressing their friend’s name.  The contempt in her voice was about as unsubtle as if she had screamed ‘do _you_ need me?’ at the top of her lungs.  Ginny wondered if her brother could actually be so thick as to miss the blatant signals from his girlfriend. 

 

They had been inseparable for months.  Hermione told Ginny about the kiss she gave him during the battle.  Back then, it seemed a real break-through in their relationship, but once again, time and distance, and a fair share of male insecurity, kept them from turning this flirtation with romance into the real thing.  

 

Returning from the hospital wing a while later, Ginny went back to gather her things left on the lawn.  Seated on the quilt, Draco and Persephone spoke quietly while little Emily danced around in complete abandon – her life as normal as it had been before a giant rock nearly crushed her.  As Ginny approached she heard the little girl chatter as she spun.

 

“Fower, mama, fower.”

 

“You want a flower, Emily?”

 

“Fower, Mama.  Daddy fower.”

 

Persephone appeared caught off guard and started looking all over the grounds.  Ginny tried not to intrude.  For one, she had no desire to launch into a conversation with Draco Malfoy, but she did feel he deserved this woman’s thanks and if she was offering it in the form of a sandwich on a blanket on a warm December day, then it was fine with her.  Quickly folding her own quilt up, she couldn’t help overhear Persephone’s predicament as she explained it to Draco.

 

“Her daddy was a wizard, I’m not.  He used to make flowers for her.”  She turned back to her daughter.  “Emily, its winter time.  Mommy can’t find any flowers.”

 

Draco ripped out a weed from the lawn and with a quick flick it erupted into pedals of yellow with a pink center.  He held it out for the little girl who squealed in delight and took the flower, returning to spin around.  “Fower.  Pretty fower!”

 

After collecting her rucksack and arranging, with Ron, for Hermione to stay at the Burrow, Ginny finally Apparated home.  Running up to her room, she pulled out her Christmas list – quickly crossed through Bill’s question mark and made some changes.  

 

Bill – ~~??~~  portkey 

Then, she added another to the end of the list.

Professor McGongall – to feel needed.  

She paused, the quill poised over the paper and thought back to the day’s events.  Looking over the contents, she justified each entry.  The names on the list all represented those that she loved or admired, those deserving of a gift.  Her mind tugged with her hand over a last addition.  Hatred could surely be cancelled by an act of charity, right?   Ginny knew this to be true and no longer hesitated, her quill extending the list once more.

 Draco – a Friend     

 

   


	5. Chapter 5 - All's Fair in Love and War

 

Morning arrived and once again, Ginny blinked at the start of another day.  The calendar next to her bed counted down the small boxes to the one that said ‘Christmas,’-- only twelve days to go.  A rustling noise to her right reminded her that she had a guest.  Hermione slept in the nearby bed, her arm still in a sling.  It had indeed been broken, but Madam Pomphrey healed the break well enough to leave the castle.  She knew that Hermione would be right as rain within hours, but convincing Ron of that fact had been like pulling teeth.  She needed two hands to count the number of trips he made to their room since escorting Hermione to her bunk.  One – ‘would you like some tea?’ two – ‘there’s a special herbal one for pain.  I can make it.’ Then three repeats of ‘are you sure there’s nothing you need?’ followed by two ‘goodnights’ and one ‘I thought I heard you calling.’  That last one had been twenty minutes after lights out.  She fully expected to find him camped out by her door.

 

Hoping not to wake her, Ginny gathered her clothes and left for the shower.  This time when she paused at her parents’ door all was quiet.  It seemed that a full house had a positive influence on her mum.  Dotting on Hermione perked her up a bit.  

 

Initially, after Voldemort’s fall, they all spent a couple of weeks living together at the Burrow:  Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, George, Molly and Arthur.  Percy even stopped in for a week.  But then, after the funerals, George returned to the shop and Percy to his flat.  Hermione left for Australia to fetch her parents and restore their memories.  Ron insisted on accompanying her.  As he was of age (and totally smitten with Hermione), and quite stubborn to boot, even his mother’s argumentative pleading couldn’t persuade him to stay.   

 

Ginny almost jumped for joy at the prospect of having Harry all to herself.  And indeed, they spent several lovely days, talking for hours about Harry’s adventures – good and bad, holding hands and trying to recall what it felt like to be teenagers again – no dark forces to catch, no lonely quests.  Somewhere in that third day, perched under an old oak tree, Harry told her that he wanted to find his own place to live.

 

“It’s not that I don’t love your family, Ginny.  They’ve been wonderful to me…but…well…”

 

She stroked his hair, the mess of black resting in her lap as she leaned against the tree and finished his thought.  “You’ve never had a place of your own.”  She smiled, knowing she had hit the mark as his expression lightened.  

 

“Exactly!”  He tipped his head up at her.  “I was so worried you were going to think that I was leaving you.”

 

“I’ll jinx you if you do!”  He smiled and she sealed it with a kiss.

 

As it worked out, she headed back to help with reconstruction and Harry started working with the Aurors almost immediately, having found a small flat on the outskirts of London.  As soon as Hermione and Ron returned and had her parents settled, Hermione joined them at Hogwarts and Harry pulled Ron in at the Ministry.  Ron still, technically, lived at home, but he was becoming a frequent guest at Harry’s flat.

 

After that, the house became awfully quiet and Molly sunk into her current state.  However, having Ron, Hermione and Ginny at home last night had given Molly something to do and for that, Ginny was thankful.

 

Showered and dressed, Ginny slipped downstairs quietly only to find Ron shoveling in forkfuls of eggs and bacon at the kitchen table, an equally sleepy-looking father on his left thumbing through the Daily Prophet.

 

She wasn’t sure what conversation had just transpired, but her mum was clearly having some words about it.  “…Ronald, you should be telling _her_ that.  Not me.”

 

Marching over to the table, her mum leaned down to kiss her dad.  “Have a nice day, dear.”

 

Arthur offered his cheek, but then turned and kissed her again square on the lips.  “Tonight, alright?”

 

Molly nodded with a faint smile, patting him on the shoulder as she left.  Meanwhile, Ginny had found a plate and spooned up some breakfast for herself.

 

“What’s tonight, Dad?”

 

“Oh, I told your mum we’d go out and do something fun for the holiday.  Brighten her spirits a bit.”

 

Ron actually stopped eating long enough to throw a glance at Ginny, confirming his same thoughts on the subject.

 

“We’re worried about her, Dad.”  Ginny sat down opposite him at the table.

 

“I know Gin.  She’s hurting right now, we all are, but we’ll get through it.  Just need some time.”

 

“She seemed to perk up when Hermione arrived.”

 

Arthur nodded and went back to his paper, but the mention of her name sparked Ron to interrupt his chewing, eggs toppling off the tines of his fork.

 

“Is she up?”

 

“No, she’s still asleep.”  Ginny sipped some pumpkin juice as she absently glanced over the headlines on the back of the paper that Arthur had propped up between them.  A rather bold one caught her attention.  “Dad, what’s that about Gringott’s on the back?”

 

“Hmm?”  Arthur folded the paper and looked on the back page.  “Corruption at Gringott’s.”

 

Ginny’s thoughts turned to Bill, still wondering why he had been fired and why Fleur had seemed so troubled by it a few nights earlier.  Her Dad began to read the article.

 

“Several key employees of Gringott’s Wizarding Bank were fired this past week when it was discovered that large amounts of money had been changing hands in the bank without proper record-keeping.  ‘Gringott’s is dedicated to maintaining the security of its funds for all wizarding Britain and we are investigating this incident, but have already removed those parties involved.’ quoted Gambly, the branch assistant manager.  Two accounts were falsely credited with gold that had been set aside for some noteworthy charitable causes.  ‘All has been set right.  We want to ensure the people that we are watching this very closely and your funds are safe with us.’”

 

 “I wonder if that has anything to do with the reason that Bill got f-OW!”  Ginny’s foot made contact with Ron’s shin in just the knick of time.  Luckily, Arthur had raised the paper again and didn’t notice the threat of death that shone on Ginny’s face as she glared at her brother.

 

Ginny mouthed ‘Not Now’ very clearly to Ron who, rubbing his shin, eyed back a kind of shrug that was meant to indicate ‘Fine, just don’t hit me again.’

 

“That Bill got _what_ son?”

 

Ginny folded her arms and huffed, her eyes still burning into Ronald.  If he didn’t cover this up properly, she was going to hex him into the next century!

 

“Um…got….um….f-fed up with…um…this bloke at the bank.”

 

“Yes, well…we know that Bill wouldn’t be involved in anything like this.”

 

“Course not!”  Ron interjected hurriedly and shoveled in the last of his eggs, probably hoping that a full mouth might keep him from saying something stupid again.  At least that was the impression he gave Ginny.

 

“I’m more worried about this conflict in Europe.  France is now siding with Poland, Italy, Hungary and Germany.  They are threatening to close their borders to all British Wizards and Witches.  They’ve told their own wizarding citizen’s not to travel to England and have sent another ambassador to negotiate with Kingsley.”

 

“What’s to negotiate?  We haven’t done anything to them.”

 

“They feel threatened.  These pure-blood fanatics start spouting tales of Muggle-born takeovers and the people get all riled up and the next thing you know, we’ll be at war.  Frankly, I’ve had just about enough war.”

 

And with that, he slapped the paper down onto the table and got up.  “I have to get in to the office.  Give Hermione my best.  I hope she’ll be feeling better today.”

 

The two echoed each other with goodbyes to their father who grabbed his cloak and case and stepped into the Floo.

 

“Dad’s right.  We’ve had enough war.”  Suddenly, she lost her appetite and pushed the half-eaten plate away, her elbow resting on the table, chin in hand.

 

“It won’t come to that.  I’m sure Kingsley will put it straight.”  Ron stacked her plate on top of his now empty one.

 

“You know Fleur is in France, right?”

 

“Yeah, Bill told me.  I guess they got in a fight.”

 

Ginny felt like her life was in a haze.  Bill and Fleur arguing, losing his job, her caught in France on the eve of war, their parents and George walking around like zombies, Mrs. Tonks fighting for Teddy, Harry pretty much absent from her life.  The fairy lights she had put up with her father were the only indication that this wasn’t January – surely not the season of joy.  She felt lethargic with the weight of so much sadness over their family.  Even beyond that, Professor McGonagall was lost without her students and her school.  It dawned on Ginny that losing so many of her students must be a sickening feeling.  Even Draco and his family, whom she had no love for, were struggling and she had to admit that she almost felt worse because of it.  Her thoughts were so focused on all of these concerns, that she didn’t really notice the way Ron had settled back in at the table, his head tipped, but eyes glancing up at her, just waiting for the right moment.  

 

“Did you hear her much last night?”

 

“What?” She looked up to find a pair of concerned eyes staring back at her.  It took a moment for his question to register. In a way, it cleared her mind, forcing her to focus her attention on their sleeping friend upstairs.  “No, Ron.  I was asleep, too.”

 

Ron nodded, grabbing another muffin off the table and unwrapping it.  “So, you don’t think she was in pain or anything last night?”

 

“Ronald, how can you be eating again?  You just finished off an enormous plate of bacon and eggs.”

 

“I get hungry when I’m nervous.  I can’t help it!”

 

“What are you nervous about?”  He rolled his eyes at her and Ginny realized that many of her concerns were his as well.  “I mean besides Bill and Fleur and Mum and Dad.”

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Does she ever talk about me?”

 

“All the time, Ron.  Why?”

 

“I mean, in a good way?  I know I tend to get on her nerves, but…I’m…I’m just worried about her, that’s all.”

 

“She worries about you, too, but at least she tells you that.”  Ron had popped a large chunk of muffin into his mouth, but it seemed that it didn’t stop him from continuing their conversation.

 

“Ut do u ean?”

 

“Swallow please.”

 

With several chews and a gargantuan gulp he continued.  “Sorry.  What do you mean?”

 

Ginny spent a lot of time with Hermione.  They had been friends for years and she was completely aware of the fact that her friend fancied her brother past the point of mere attraction.  She knew they had kissed several times, but she also knew that her brother wasn’t the most vocal when it came to expressing his feelings toward her and that Hermione’s frustration in this area was at a peak.  

 

Generally she didn’t discuss these things with her brother.  Just like Hermione didn’t share things with Harry about her.  The girls confided in one another, but rarely with the boys.  However, this appeared to be the one thing in her life that she had some control over.  Perhaps if she did speak with him, pass on some words of wisdom, maybe this one relationship would find itself on the straight and narrow.  She might just make a difference.

 

Ron finally prompted her.  “Are you going to tell me or just sit there with that pleasant look on your face like you know something I don’t?”

 

“Why don’t you just come out and tell her how you feel about her?”

 

Ron looked aghast like her suggestion was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

 

“I mean…did you hear yourself yesterday?  ‘We want you to come back to the Ministry.  You’d be a great asset.  Harry needs you.’”

 

“Well, he does and she would be a great asset!”  he retorted, appearing perturbed that she was questioning his sincerity.

 

“Ronald, you’re not listening. She wants to hear that _you_ want her to come back, that _you_ need her.  It doesn’t matter what Harry or Kinsley or anyone else wants.”

 

“Well…I…”

 

“Ron, do you love her?”

 

Bits of muffin burst forth from his mouth as he coughed out a muffled.  “Do I what?”

 

“Because if you do, now would be a good time to tell her.”

 

Deciding a quick exit might be wise, she went back to her room to check on Hermione.  Upon entering the room, her friend was sitting up on the edge of the bed, partially dressed.  Hermione tried to cover up the grimace as she attempted to slip her blouse on, but Ginny noticed.

 

“Do you need some help?”  Without waiting for an answer, she lifted the sleeve and helped her slip it on.

 

“Thanks.”  

 

“Still hurting, huh?”  She started helping with the buttons.

 

“A bit.  I’m sure it will feel better later.  Just a little lingering soreness, that’s all.”

 

Ginny thought back to her recent conversation and considered sharing some of it with Hermione.  She knew the thoughtful expression on Hermione’s face – only Ron could put that look in her eyes.  

 

“Ron was asking about you.”  She folded the quilt on her bed.  “He wanted to know if you were in any pain last night.”

 

Peripherally, Hermione nodded her acknowledgement.

 

“I have to run some errands for Mum.  Do you want to come along or are you alright here on your own?”

 

The door creaked.  A set of fingers wrapped around the edge, the other set knocking on the opposite side.  “Can I come in?”

 

Ginny wasn’t sure whether to invite him in or not, but Hermione answered for her.  “Yes, Ronald.”

 

“Well, I have to go and run these errands.  I’ll be back this afternoon.”  She scooped up her cloak and sidestepped Ron who appeared some mixture of ashamed and concerned, his head dipped and hands slipping into his pockets.

 

Closing the door behind her, she knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but the urge to know became so overwhelming that she couldn’t help but press her back to the wall and listen through the crack.

 

*** 

 

Ron paused just inside the door.  Ginny’s advice lingered, a maze of possibilities formulating in his head.  It was like being hit by a freight train – the realization that his words had sounded so cold and disconnected to Hermione.  That was the last thing he had intended, but hearing his sister repeat them back to him made it clear.  He somehow felt ashamed and apologetic, afraid to fully look at her – fearful that her eyes would confirm the neglect she felt as a result of his less than careful phrasing.

 

“H-How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, keeping his hands in his pockets.  “Ginny said you slept alright?”

 

“It’s better, but still sore.  I guess that’s to be expected.”  She attempted to bend down and pull on her shoe, but grimaced in the process.

 

“Here, let me help you.”  Ron dropped to a knee in front of her and quickly took over.

 

“Thank you, Ronald.”  Within a minute he had her trainers on and tied, but he remained on the floor in front of her.  Their eyes locked.  All was quiet.  The house appeared empty and the moment beckoned – an invitation for a private minute – something they both had wished for, but rarely had.  

 

“Hermione, I need to tell you something.”

 

She didn’t speak.  Her eyes waited expectantly.  Ron felt an urge to touch her and slipped his hands up her arms, suddenly remembering her injury, he let them fall back to her knees, suppressing a desire to say ‘sorry’ in the process.

 

Ron concentrated – choosing his words carefully.  “ _I_ want you to come back and work at the Ministry.”  He quickly swallowed as though getting through that sentence had been momentous.

 

She seemed to wait a moment before answering.  Ron noticed her hesitation and considered saying something else, but saw her inhale and closed his lips.

 

“I like working at Hogwarts.  Rebuilding it is satisfying.  I want to go back as soon as it’s open.”

 

Ron did his best to plan his sentence before blurting it out, calculating his response to ensure she understood his meaning.

 

“I know you do and I want you to go back, if it’s really what you want.”  Drawing in a breath he stressed the first word again.  “I worry about you when we’re apart.”

 

His arms floated back up to hers, but he was moving them carefully and lovingly toward her shoulder.

 

“You worry about me?”

 

“Yes.”  Ron considered that this was harder than any test he had ever taken. No matter how many rolls of parchment he had to write, no amount of research, not even pulling Harry from that frozen pond was as difficult as this, yet he pushed on, determination in his voice.  “I need you to be with me.  I miss you.”

 

That must have done it for her brows turned in against watery eyes as she tipped her head.

 

“I miss you, too.  I hate being apart.”  Her eyes squinched up, but she held her own.

 

He hated to see her cry and his first instinct was to say something funny to lighten the mood, but her subtle shift toward him convinced him otherwise.

 

Conscious of her injured arm, he leaned in to meet her, their lips touching warmly.  They hadn’t kissed – hadn’t even been alone together – for weeks.  Kissing Hermione was like coming home.  It was soft and comfortable and felt like he belonged there.  It was the same every time.  Her lips fed his soul and he prayed that time would hold and allow them to swim in this moment.

 

Eyes still closed, their lips parted.  Only the tickle of each shallow breath separated them.  Her cheek was smooth pressed against the side of his nose and he nudged her lips with his – daring them to leave – wishing they would linger.

 

She smiled.  He felt it – a full, unrehearsed smile that forced the same from Ron.  Breathing in the scent of her hair, he opened his eyes to meet the lovely brown ones staring back at him.

 

That moment for levity arrived.  “So, what would my beautiful, talented girlfriend like for Christmas this year?”

 

“Just you.”

 

*** 

 

Ginny tip-toed down the steps, avoiding the center of the third one – the one that always creaked – and smiled all the way out the door.  She ventured out that afternoon feeling a bit more satisfied with her life.  At least one relationship might have a good Christmas. 

 

Her trips to George’s shop were becoming habit – at least on the weekends.  Knowing that Lee was going to leave soon, she considered that it might be smart to stop in, check on her brother.  She realized that her earlier thought of working at the store wasn’t all that improbable.  If it really came down to it, she’d fill the void to her best abilities.

 

Imagining a solemn welcome, Ginny’s serious expression dropped when she found a very exuberant Marissa working the sales counter.  A teenage boy who Ginny recognized as a third-year Hufflepuff concluded a purchase, but not before George traipsed in from the backroom, fully engulfed in glee and paused to whisper something in Marissa’s ear as he passed behind her and beyond to the next aisle.  Whatever he said, she enjoyed it and smiled even wider while thanking the young man for his purchase before looking toward her.

 

“Ginny! Hi!  I didn’t know you were coming by today.”

 

“I didn’t know you were coming by today, either.”

 

“Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you.  I offered to help George out at the store this weekend.  His friend, Lee?”  Ginny nodded.  “Well, he told George that he got this terrific job offer and so he’s leaving next week and I just thought that George might need some help.”

 

Ginny felt another smile creeping across her face.  “Well, that was very sweet of you, Marissa.”  She hoped her painfully close-lipped smile wouldn’t give away the fact that this whole scene was just dripping with flirtatiousness.

 

George returned, again passing behind her and whispering again, but this time Ginny overheard quite clearly – probably as George intended her to.

 

“Yeah, that _was_ very sweet of you.”

 

Marissa giggled and hunched her shoulder up as if his words had tickled.

 

Ginny couldn’t remember the last time George looked this happy.  She felt good seeing it.  Fred’s absence still remained, but Marissa’s bubbling personality certainly erased a portion of it.  

 

The day flew past.  She managed a few more gifts for her list and arrived home, sending off another letter to Harry.  Even if none arrived in return, at least he would know that she thought of him.  Daylight dwindled so early now, the fairy lights twinkling in full force well before dinner time.  Stowed up in her room, only a call up the stairs from her father had informed her of their departure.

 

After wrapping a few gifts, she ran through an imaginary checklist of activities for the evening:  read a book, listen to some music, track down Ron for a game of chess.  That last idea seemed unlikely.  If her assumptions were correct, Ron and Hermione were together right now, as they should be.

 

Feeling hungry, she made a quick sandwich and glanced over the last of the paper.  A section on page eight listed various holiday events and she noted that Ottery St. Catchpole was entertaining carolers on this very eve.  Maybe a quick trip into the village would be fun.

 

Ginny grabbed her cloak and with a pop arrived on the outskirts of the little village.  The clusters of wizarding families in the area melded so well with the Muggles in this village – it truly exuded hospitality.  The inhabitants of the town made up for their community’s small size by lighting up southern England.  Every window spouted homemade snowflakes, garland in gold or silver, fairy lights that alternated in scope and size.  Wreaths hung from nearly every door.  The lights from the village church punched through the stained-glass windows in a prism of color that illuminated the nearby buildings and lightly dusted walkways.

 

The temperature declined rapidly and Ginny pulled her cloak securely around her neck then marched down the hill, the town square directly ahead.  A group of carolers dressed in Charles Dickens’s costume were well into a rousing version of ‘Deck the Halls’ as various villagers shuffled through the square, their arms laden with packages.  Behind them, a small orchestra was setting up.

 

Chairs had been placed near the Christmas tree which filled the center of the small burg.   Ginny took a seat, the music of the season improving her spirits considerably.  Ottery St. Catchpole didn’t have a large population and Ginny wondered if every resident had left their homes tonight and gathered here, for it had surely expanded to quadruple its normal citizenry.  Ginny found the act of ‘people watching’ quite entertaining as she panned over the square.

 

To her right, a blur of red in a nearby window gave Ginny pause.  A young couple sat at a table in the nearby coffee shop…

 

*** 

 

Ron held the door open as Hermione walked inside the shop.  He couldn’t recall having ever been in this building before.  Their previous conversation continued.

 

“…Christmas Eve then, alright?  Since your mum usually does a large dinner on Christmas Day.  That way we get to see them both.”  Almost without a breath between sentences, she changed topics.  “I’m going to order something.  What about you?” She pulled off her gloves.

 

“Um…no, but I’ll find us a table, alright?”  He smiled and she nodded her approval.

 

Ron navigated a path through the small round tables and chairs, finding a cozy looking spot near the window.  There was a nice view of the village square--a little romantic even.  Perhaps she would hold his hand.  That would be very nice.

 

A second later, Hermione’s voice could be heard -  ‘pardon me’ – as she too squeezed in between the small tables and pulled the chair out.  Ron apparently had an afterthought of manners and stood, attempting to hold the chair for her, but she was already seated.  

 

“Thank you, Ron.”  He cleared his throat and returned to his seat.  “So, you’re sure you don’t want anything?”

 

“This coffee stuff isn’t the best in my book.”  Ron frowned watching as the patrons ordered cup after cup of the steaming brown liquid.

 

“It tastes alright if you put sugar and cream in it.”  Hermione unwrapped the scarf from her neck and place it and her gloves on the edge of the table.

 

“I’d prefer a nice butterbeer, or even tea.”  He pushed back in his seat.

 

“Well, if that’s your preference, that’s fine.  I’m just telling you because coffee is really prevalent in the Muggle world.  Everyone drinks it.”

 

“Why should that matter?” he shrugged.

 

“Well, being that I’m Muggle and my parents are Muggle, you should expect to drink coffee on occasion.”

 

“When would I be drinking this with your parents?”

 

She did not speak.  The funny thing was, the absence of Hermione’s words was more indicative of his stupidity than if she had chewed him out in front of a dozen people.    

 

Frantically, he rewound the recent conversation in his head.  The dawn of enlightenment shown on his face as he discovered his error.  “Oh!  With your parents.  Christmas Eve.  Yeah.  Well, it’s pretty ghastly, but I suppose I could keep down some of this brown goo.”

 

Her pursed lips signaled him that once again, he had said something stupid and the proof showed up over his shoulder in the form of a waitress.  She took one glaring glance and set the cup and saucer in front of Hermione.  “Here you go, love, a nice ghastly cup ‘o brown goo.”

 

Ron’s head fell into his palms as the waitress left their table.  Why did he always do this?  Parting his hands enough to make out Hermione’s annoyed expression, Ron spoke rather succinctly.  “I know, I know.  Open mouth, remove foot.”

 

*** 

 

Ginny watched them for a moment, glad to see that at least they were spending time together.  The carolers had finished the song and now the orchestra was striking up a new tune.  A small group of people gathered along the sidewalks, forming a sort of makeshift dance floor.  Smack dab, in the middle stood her parents.  

 

*** 

 

“Come on darling.  We haven’t danced since Bill’s wedding.”  Arthur stood, pulling her hand.

 

“I’m not much in the mood, dear.”

 

He wagged a finger toward her.  “Ah, ah.  You promised me.”

 

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

 

Releasing a small breath, Molly accompanied Arthur to a portion of sidewalk that was meant to resemble a dance floor.

 

With a practiced ease, he pulled her close and they began to sway.  It was soothing and relaxed, years of knowing one another – almost better than they knew themselves.  Arthur closed his eyes, relishing the comfort in her.  She was his mainstay, his armor and fortitude.  She was also his joy.  Beside her, he endured years of struggle, both financial and moral as they refused to follow the pure-blood fanatics.  He wondered, at times, if he would have been so strong had she not been part of his conscience.

 

She sighed.  His heart cracked just a bit more.  He knew that sigh for he had comforted her on too many occasions to count.  It always brought him back to thoughts of Fred.  He tried to reassure himself that although they had lost one, they still had six other children who looked to them for guidance, whom they loved and admired, each for their own unique characteristics.

 

Keeping that happiness in the front of his mind was the only thing that kept him strong.  After all these years, she needed him as _her_ armor and he was determined not to let her down.

 

The music picked up to a livelier tune and Arthur pushed away, took her hand and started to spin her in circles.  

 

“Arthur!”

 

“Come on Mollywobbles.  Let’s kick up a rug!”

 

She smiled at him and he latched onto her happiness and refused to let go, doing his best Lindy imitation.  Soon she squealed and he finally got the laugh he had so longed to hear.  Even if this moment only lasted for minutes, the memory of it would sustain him for years, just as all their other happy moments had done in the past.

 

Within minutes, they were both breathless and warm.  Arthur felt giddy as a school boy on his first date when they finally stopped and she looked at him.  Her face wasn’t flawless porcelain as it once had been.  It drooped and sagged, just as his, but her eyes showed their youth and he reached up to stroke her flushed cheek.

 

“I love you, Molly.”

 

The music changed again.  The familiar tune of ‘Silent Night’ washed over the crowd in a symphony of strings.  She reached around his back and snuggled her head into his chest as they began to sway again.  She sighed, but this one was different.  This one had hope and Arthur closed his eyes, feeling better than he had in months.

 

*** 

 

“Well, two for two,” Ginny muttered to herself.  Her eyes shifted back and forth from the couple on her left – a commitment made long ago and still sustaining – to the couple in the coffee house on the right – hopeful and yet still stumbling a bit.  She truly hoped that Ron and Hermione would find the same kind of happiness that had kept her parents together all these years.

 

The music continued, the carolers now singing with the orchestra in a joint performance.  Scanning the crowd once more, she felt like déjà vu all over again when Bill walked out of the small Muggle post office behind the square.  This required some personal attention and she got up and pushed her way through the crowds moving in his general direction.

 

*** 

 

Bill left the warmth of the tiny post office and stepped back into the chilly night, an envelope gripped in his hand.  For the first time in his life, he actually hated being a wizard and found relief in the Muggle way of life.  After numerous owls to France, none of which had gone through, Bill reverted to the Muggle post and sent a letter to Fleur’s parents’ address.  He wasn’t sure if it would get through as most homes belonging to wizard families were hidden from the prying eyes of Muggles.  He had run out of other options.

 

Leaving the address in this village for her to respond, he had been checking the office twice daily and finally, this evening, there was a letter.  He ripped it open and unfolded the paper – Muggle paper, not parchment.  Just seeing her handwriting gave him relief.

 

  _Dearest Bill,_

_I am so sorry.  I never should have run out like that.  You have been on my mind constantly and I am concerned about why none of your owls got through.  I have sent several to you as well, but it looks clear that they have not made it to_ _England_ _._

_It is very tense here.  Luckily, no one knows that I am married to an Englishman.  Otherwise, I would not feel as comfortable being out in public.  The wizarding news keeps spouting terrible stories of Muggle take-overs at the British Ministry, murders of purebloods, raping of witches by Muggle men in hopes of depleting the bloodline.  It is ridiculous._

_I have tried to come home to you, but they will not let me out.  All French witches and wizards are to remain out of_ _England_ _for their own safety._

_Please be careful darling.  I do not know what I would do if you were hurt._ _I am trying once again to get a portkey, but I have been turned down three times before._

_I heard the stories coming from Gringott’s, but you know I do not believe you did any such thing.  I am sorry if I sounded accusatory before.  I was just angry and thoughtless._ _I love you._

_Please write me back and use the Muggle address on the outside of the envelope.  I will get it._

_Yours always,_

_Fleur_

With frustration, Bill rubbed his whiskered jaw – the growth having increased daily with his worry.  At least he had contacted her, but she sounded frightened and it made him even more angry and tense that he had been before this letter.

 

Internally, he berated himself again for the way his words had prompted her to leave.  If he had just thought before he spoke, this wouldn’t have happened.  At least she was safe with her parents.  If it came to war, it might be better for her to stay there than to come back to England.  It would kill him to be separated from her, but he refused to put her in more danger.

 

 A gentleman carrying a large box bumped into him, obviously unable to see his way clear.  Bill stumbled back as the man mumbled ‘Excuse me.  Sorry.’  When he looked up, a petite red-head with a concerned expression was muscling her way through the crowd, her eyes focused on him. 

Ginny shot a thumb over her shoulder.  “I was just over listening to the carols and I saw you.  What are you doing here?”

 

“Um…I got a letter…from Fleur.”  Ginny looked a bit confused.  “The owls weren’t getting through so I sent her a letter via Muggle post and she wrote me back.”

 

“I don’t understand…”  

 

“Ginny, they won’t let her out of France and they won’t let me go to England.  These damn wizarding politicians are talking themselves into another war!”

 

“I didn’t realize it was getting that bad.  I’m sure Kingsley will…”

 

“Kingsley is only one man.”  Bill wrapped an arm around her shoulder and they started to walk toward the square.  “I spoke to him the other day, trying to get a portkey out.  He gave his okay, but then the French Prime Minister refused to allow me in.”

 

Pulling her to a nearby bench, he continued.  “You can’t say anything about this…I probably shouldn’t even tell you considering your relationship…but, well, they want to speak to Harry.”

 

“Who?  Who wants to speak to Harry?”

 

“The French Prime Minister and a half a dozen other ambassadors and representatives.  He’s become a folk legend to them.  A hero in the storybooks and somehow they believe that convincing him of their position would mean a change in Britain.”

 

“That’s ludicrous.  Harry would never…”

 

“I know.  That’s why Kingsley keeps telling them no, plus he doesn’t think it’s wise to put such a young man in the center of all this mess.  He feels somewhat protective of Harry, just as we all have during the years of the war.  Please, you can’t say anything to him.  You know Harry, he’ll jump into the thick of it – damn noble heart.”

 

Ginny chuckled.  “Yeah, he probably would.  Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.  I don’t see him enough to talk anyhow.”

 

Bill turned a bit more toward her.  “Aren’t you two a couple?”

 

Ginny looked down at her gloves, her own fingers twisting the fringe of her scarf around in circles – a definite indication of nerves.  

 

“Ginny?  What’s going on?”

 

*** 

She shook her head with a frown, as if convincing herself that nothing was off.  “Nothing.  Harry’s just been busy, that’s all.  He’s hunting down Carrow and well, I’m at the castle most of the time.  We don’t have time to be together.”

 

She hadn’t heard from Harry in nearly a week.  The tiniest little sliver of doubt had crept into her mind over the past few days.  It’s not like she hadn’t spent years loving this boy and watching him either ignore her or get all flustered over Cho Chang.  Her heart had been bought and paid for long ago, but with each minute of absence, each day without a letter, she considered that perhaps they wouldn’t end up with each other.  She couldn’t make him love her.  She could try, but ultimately, it was his choice.  Just thinking of it made her sick to her stomach and she did her best to ignore it.  It was just silly thinking and she shook her head, convincing herself to forget the mere suggestion of it.

 

“Oh, munchkin, don’t worry.”  Bill wrapped his arm more tightly around her.  “He hasn’t forgotten about you.  Things will be fine, you’ll see.”

 

For the first time in months, she allowed herself some emotion.  She had cried with others, over their losses, over their grief, sharing in sorrow over Fred and Lupin and Tonks.  Never had she cried for herself.  Everyone else’s lives had been so full of despair that she had shelved her own worries and fears, telling herself that she’d deal with them later.

 

One of those worries had just fallen off the shelf and she leaned in, accepting the embrace from her big brother.  “It’s just not fair.”  She whispered.  

 

“Aw, Gin.  All’s far in love and war.”  He gave one final squeeze and then stood up and held out his hand.    

 

“Come on, how about a dance with your big brother?”  

 

She wiped away the beginnings of a tear, sniffed and took his hand.  He led her to a small patch of grass that wasn’t covered in snow.  To her left, Arthur was standing beside Molly as they swayed while listening to the orchestra.  To her right, Hermione exited the coffee shop, Ron taking her hand almost immediately.  Bill folded Fleur’s letter and slipped it in his coat pocket, just beside his heart.

 

A mellow voice crooned out over the village.  “I’ll be home for Christmas…”

 

Bill and Ginny danced.

      


	6. Chapter 6 - Families Torn Asunder

  
Author's notes: This will finish up with Chapter 7 which I hope to release on Christmas Eve.  Enjoy!  


* * *

 

A large crowd had gathered around the entrance doors of Hogwarts Monday morning.  Ginny, Hermione and Marissa eyed each other in curiosity and pushed their way through to find the reason for the commotion.

 

Neville stood head and shoulders above the rest as he tacked something to the doors, finally turning with a broad smile.  With open arms, he announced.  “Hogwarts to reopen on January 5th!”

 

The surrounding throng shouted jubilantly as Neville stepped back through the entrance.  Hermione was first to reach the doors, the crowd dispersing.  Ginny watched over her shoulder as she read aloud the front page of the Daily Prophet.

 

“Reconstruction is nearly finished at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  This monumental effort has been going on for over six months since the Battle of Hogwarts destroyed a good portion of the school.  The headmistress, Minerva McGonagall was quoted as saying ‘I cannot begin to express my gratitude to the hundreds of students, parents and volunteers who have spent countless hours restoring our school and preparing it to continue in the finest educational tradition.’  McGonagall announced this morning that the repairs will be finished in time for a January 5 reopening.  All students who received their Hogwarts letters this past summer will be welcomed for their first term.  All sixth and seventh year returning students may report one day early, if needed.  The Hogwarts Express will be running on its usual schedule on January 5th.”

 

Hermione turned to Ginny, flung her arms open and the two of them hugged.  Ginny’s happiness stemmed from knowing that the work was almost over, but she knew  Hermione was elated at the thought of being back in school again.  

 

The celebration moved into the building, but as Ginny glanced around, she couldn’t help  noticing a couple of figures near a rock in the distance.  Draco stood in his usual spot.  He had become a fixture, a lawn ornament of sorts in the past week.

 

Little Emily, dressed in a pink coat and matching hat, toddled across the lawn toward him, Persephone just feet behind, keeping a watchful eye.  As the little girl drew closer, Draco crouched down to her level.  That act alone bewildered Ginny, for it was so unlike any Malfoy to lower themselves to anyone, let alone a half-blood or a child.  Emily held something in her hand and she offered it to Draco.  Without realizing it, Ginny had advanced toward them, needing to know more.  

 

Draco took the object and appeared to tuck it into his coat.  Persephone waved toward her daughter and the little girl scampered back, her mother scooping her up easily.  Draco rose to his feet again.  

 

Ginny wasn’t sure why, but some force – perhaps pity, perhaps curiosity – pushed her feet across the lawn.  She felt like the audience watching some strange trio of change.  The child toyed happily with her mother’s hair.  Persephone, a poor, widowed Muggle woman, and Draco, the once blue-blood of wizarding society locked eyes, communicating something between them.  The woman appeared reluctant and grateful at the same time, not approaching him, but radiating appreciation in the loving embrace of her daughter.  Whatever she was trying to say, Draco must have understood for he nodded his head just a bit and backed up, returning to his seat on the rock.  Persephone set Emily down and took her hand, walking back toward Ginny. 

 

Seconds later, the women met on the lawn and Persephone asked what must have been on her mind since the week before.  “Why is he sitting out there all alone?”

 

Ginny knew the answer and yet the concept of verbalizing it to this woman seemed cruel in the wake of Draco’s actions the previous week.  She wanted to explain, to defend everyone’s opinion and show how it was right that Draco be excluded.  And yet, this mother and child knew nothing of his past, only the single act of goodness.  Ginny just couldn’t allow this woman to regret or question her actions toward him.  

 

“It’s hard to explain, Persephone.  Why don’t you go on in and I’ll talk with him.”

 

Persephone’s mouth curled up ever so slightly and she continued on with Emily.

 

There would be no more waiting and Ginny let out a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand.  With each step she replayed all of the chance encounters, insults, and otherwise cruel things Draco said over the years.  Yet, that one courageous act – saving not only a small girl, but a half-blood, convinced her that this boy – this man, may have changed.  What would she say to him?  Would he even speak to her or was she just setting herself up for another round of defamation.

 

He obviously saw her coming, for he stood, adjusting his robe with fidgety fingers.  Arriving just yards away, she stopped and crossed her arms over her chest for lack of knowing what else to do with them.  Sprouting from Draco’s button hole hung a limp yellow flower.

 

“It looks like you made a friend.”  She nodded toward the petals protruding from his lapel.

 

“Yes, it appears that way,” he replied blankly.

 

Ginny nodded, still unsure what to say or how to proceed, but finally decided on a direct approach.

 

“So, do you actually want to help here?”  She braced herself for the sarcastic response she expected.

 

“Yes, very much.”

 

He blinked several times, not a sneer in sight and Ginny again focused on the flower, slightly puzzled.  Glancing down at his chest, he gently fingered the wilting stem.  When he spoke, it was soft and somewhat hesitant.

 

“Look, Weasley, I’m not asking for any hand-outs.  I’m not a charity case.  I just want to help out and do my fair share.  This was my home for many years and believe it or not, I was troubled at its destruction.”

 

Her first inclination was to ask why he cared when he had a lovely home, knowing it would hurt him to mention what had been lost.  The pangs of her own losses seemed to keep her tongue at bay as she continued, “Why should any of us trust you?”

 

“I can’t answer that.  Things have changed.  I’ve had to re-examine my life.  I’ve lost a lot, too.”

 

Ginny’s thoughts flashed to Fred.  She wanted to shout at him that he knew nothing of loss, that his opulent manor held no value in comparison to the emptiness in their lives.  It was only the pleading look in his eyes that calmed her.  He looked thin.  Was he just looking to make some money, to feed himself and the family?  Could she blame him if he was?  Still, she had to ensure that he understood what his request entailed.

 

“You do know that most of us are volunteers?  We’re not being compensated in any way.  We are being fed and you can sleep in the castle, although the Slytherin dungeons are currently being used as storage until we can set the classrooms back up.”

 

This time he only nodded and licked his lips.  He watched her with the anxious expectancy of a defendant waiting for the judge to announce a verdict.

 

Ginny knew that there would be protests and a part of her didn’t want to stir the pot and yet, she sensed an opportunity for reconciliation.  Maybe Draco would be the olive branch that so many of them needed.  She gestured toward the castle and turned.

 

“Well, come on then.  Let’s find you a job.”

 

She took several steps, still watching him as he appeared rooted to the spot like he couldn’t believe her invitation.  As if hearing her for the first time, he jerked forward and jogged a couple of steps to fall in just behind her.  Again, it felt so odd for a Malfoy to be walking behind anyone, let alone a Weasley.  She slowed to allow him to step along side her, feeling oddly repulsed and yet grateful for his presence.

 

As they reached the Great Hall, most of the workers were eating breakfast and Draco’s appearance did not go unnoticed.  A hush fell over the crowd as they entered.  She sensed Draco’s unease and hence her own, but kept moving forward, finding Neville and Hermione seated in the center.  If Neville accepted him, the rest would reluctantly agree.  Hermione eyed them warily as they approached and Ginny spoke with as much conviction as she could muster.

 

“Draco would like to help with the reconstruction efforts.”  Before Neville or anyone could respond, she turned and pinched Draco’s sleeve, pulling him beside her.  “And I support his request.”

 

Neville turned his gaze to Draco.  Ginny could almost read the thoughts in his head, probably the same ones she had struggled with moments before.  Even Professor McGonagall, who stood at the front of the room, seemed to pause and wait for Neville’s response.   Having Bellatrix Lestrange for an aunt did little to help Draco’s cause, especially where Neville was concerned.  However, Ginny also trusted in her friend’s sense of fairness.

 

Neville tossed a knowing look to Hermione and then to Ginny that she read to mean ‘are you sure?’   She nodded ever so subtly in reply and turned to see Hermione raising an eyebrow in hesitant agreement.

 

“We need to get the Slytherin dungeons cleaned out and the classrooms set up.  Why don’t you help with that,” said Neville.

 

He poked his fork back into the pancake on his plate and a gentle murmur erupted over the room.  The coil of tension, having been stretched to its limits was contracted with a slow ease as the sounds of breakfast continued on around them.  Ginny sat down beside Hermione about to grab a muffin when she noticed Draco spying the food with mouth-watering hunger and yet seemingly reluctant to touch.

 

“Have some breakfast Draco.  There’s work to be done and you won’t be as productive without a full stomach.”

 

He sat beside her, but several feet away and slowly lifted a scone from the nearby platter.  An ever-exuberant Marissa, oblivious to the magnitude of the encounter, returned to the  conversation she had been having about Christmas traditions at her house in the states.  Ginny wondered if anyone besides herself noticed Draco devouring several helpings of breakfast before they started in for the day.

 

Monday stretched into Thursday.  Ginny stayed at the castle three evenings, having stepped up the effort to get the school ready for their now looming deadline.  Hermione received several owls from Ron, leaving Ginny more depressed as ever at Harry’s continuing absence.  Ron alluded to the fact that Harry had been in constant meetings with Kingsley.  And when not, he was working through various clues on Carrow’s location and being cross-examined by a myriad of straight-nosed and often callous attorneys who tried to twist his every word to favor a plum-faced Umbridge (rosy and sweet on the outside, but bitter at the seed).  Even though, Ginny felt hurt that he couldn’t manage a quick letter.  

 

Draco’s work ethic had been exemplary.  Following instructions to the letter, he had single-handedly reset and stocked twelve classrooms that now looked brighter and more inviting than any Ginny had seen.  He even began to ease into some breakfast conversation, chuckling once or twice at Marissa’s usual high-spirited antics.  It was during this time on Thursday that Marissa dropped a casual bombshell after reading a newly received owl from her family.

 

“My parents decided that it’s too cold up north.  They’re going to Florida for Christmas and I’m supposed to meet them at their hotel, but how do they expect me to portkey in right in the center of the tourism capital of the world?”

 

“Did you say you’re going home for Christmas?”  Ginny tried to clarify.

 

“Yeah.  I’m due back at the University on the tenth so I guess I should spend some quality time with my folks and then get ready to go.”

 

“So, you’re not coming back?”  As if the implications of her absence were too troubling to consider, Ginny simply stared in silence.

 

Marissa must have sensed Ginny’s unease for she chewed her lip for a second, her brow furrowed in a sort of pending apprehension.  “I-I would like to, but I’m registered to start classes again in January.  Hogwarts is reopening January 5th, right?”  She looked puzzled.

 

“But, George…”  Ginny’s face mimicked the expression she could only expect to see when the news reached her brother.  “Have you told him?”

 

“No.  I will this weekend, but I don’t think that he believed I was going to be here long term.”  Ginny’s implication finally hit.  “Oh, Ginny, please don’t think that I was toying with your brother or anything.  He’s absolutely lovely and I would never do such a thing to him.”

 

Ginny was speechless.  Marissa’s countenance became much more subdued and neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.  Several times Ginny caught her staring, her lips parted, poised to say something.  Yet, she never dared.  

 

Feeling particularly weary at lunch that day, Ginny propped her head up with an open palm as she stirred her suddenly unappealing soup.  Glancing again at the only thing available to read, Ginny gasped seeing her own family’s name in newsprint and snatched up the Prophet.  

 

Hermione stopped chewing and swallowed.  “What is it?”

 

“Oh, no.”  The paper trembled in her hand as she stared at the article, disbelieving the print.  Hermione found the cause of her anxiety and read the small column in a whispered voice.

 

“Gringott’s Wizarding Bank announced today, that after a thorough investigation, it has named a suspect in the case of the troubling misappropriation of funds discovered weeks ago.  With the Assistant Warlock, Mathias Bentley, standing beside him, the Chief Goblin of Gringott’s, Lamcor announced that Bill Weasley, former curse breaker for Gringott’s had been named an official suspect.  Mr. Weasley, the son of Ministry employee Arthur Weasley and brother of the famous Ron Weasley, member of the golden trio, refused to comment when questioned about these charges.”

 

Hermione paused, placing a comforting hand on Ginny’s back.  “Oh, Ginny.  This just can’t be.  He didn’t do this.”

 

“Of course he didn’t.”  Ginny jumped up from her bench and began searching for her brother, worry and fear fueling her legs as she ran, frantic to reach him.  The harder she ran, the more panicked she became.  Terrible thoughts invaded her head – visions of trials and prison cells, her mother fully engulfed in a nervous breakdown – George wandering lost and alone – Harry splitting up with her - the intensity of it all became unbearable as she staggered to a stop somewhere on the fourth floor.  Breathless and consumed with anguish, her weight crushed in upon her knees and she dropped to the cold, stone floor.

 

Slumping against the wall, she finally opened her throat and a high-pitched wail filled the passageway.  She could no longer hold it in.  Her shoulders shook with uncontrollable sobs, her body weak as it lost all ability to sustain her.  She couldn’t see.  All was a blur of tears and she wrapped her head in her arms and bent over her knees.  Her family was falling apart.  After all this time – years of solidarity, of strength in the face of such immeasurable fear, they had held together.  And now, in a time when all should be well, her life felt misshapen and lost.  The reasonable side of her brain, the part that explained to her calmly that things were not as bad as they seemed – it wasn’t working.  It had been pushed aside by a full heart that spoke of missed brothers, broken families, grieving parents and lost love.

 

When it seemed that no more tears would come, she began to sense the cold seeping through the legs of her denims.  Comfort came in the sound of her own breath.  An eerie calm eased over her.  Where there once was tension, she now felt limp – drained and unmoving, the cool walls and floor numbing her into a hushed state of repose.

 

Even the warmth of the hand that came to rest on her shoulder felt unappealing, disrupting the cool haze that was blanketing her.

 

“Can I help?”  The masculine voice surprised her and Ginny sniffed, running a sleeve over her blotchy face.

 

Expecting anyone but who was currently kneeling beside her, Ginny tried to gather herself quickly.

 

“Draco, what are you…?”

 

“I heard you crying.  Are you alright?”  His tone was shockingly compassionate.

 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”  Ginny grabbed the wall and found her feet.

 

Draco didn’t speak and Ginny wiped her eyes one last time.  Her only thought was a quick exit, but before she took more than two steps…

 

“Listen…um…Ginny.”

 

He used her first name?  She stopped if only in disbelief of that single fact, but he continued.  

 

“I heard about your brother Bill.”

 

She spun around, hardening herself against his next expected remarks.  “Yes.”

 

“I-I know some things.  I have information that might help him.”

 

“You do?”

 

“The thing at Gringott’s?”  She nodded expectantly as he continued.  “That was Umbridge’s doing.”

 

“You’re kidding, right?”

 

He shook his head vehemently.  “My father overheard a conversation between Umbridge’s lawyer and some other bloke near the inn where we’re staying.  She Imperioused a couple of the employees at the bank and they’ve been stealing money and using it to pay off the witnesses at her trial.”

 

“What?  Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“Are you joking?  Who would I talk to?  No one will even give me the time of day.  My father refuses to go out in public and my mother has been crying every night and trying to feed us.  I finally had to leave.  I couldn’t stand it anymore.  You’re the first person who bothered to even talk to me in months, well…besides Persephone and her daughter.”

 

“Do you have any proof of this?  I mean…we have to stop this.  They’re going to blame all this on Bill and…”

 

“Well, according to my father, she was stupid enough to user her own wand so, if you just get the wand and test it, you’d see the spells.”

 

“Oh, that’s brilliant news!  Thank you, thank you, Draco!”  She flung her arms around him, all previous animosity lost in the wake of this life saving information.

 

His body froze ram-rod straight and he bobbed like a peg in the floor as she hugged him, raising one arm to her back only at the last second.

 

Ginny drew back with a look of determination.  “I have to go and get this news to someone.  I’ll see you later, alright?”

 

She didn’t see his expression for her legs had already carried her down the hall, back toward civilization, hoping to see Bill, but willing to talk to anyone that would listen.  Hermione heard it first and promptly owled Ron and Harry while Ginny tracked down her brother and told him the news.  That night was the first in many where her sleep was dreamless and sound.

 

Friday flew by quickly, the last day before everyone left for the holiday and the final day of work before they would start a new term at Hogwarts.  The classrooms were set, the painting done, portraits re-hung and the elves had helped with general cleaning.  

 

All day, Ginny and Hermione watched for an owl in response.  Bill was scheduled for a hearing on the Gringott’s charges Monday morning and they all hoped things would be settled long before that.  Only the Professors, who resided at the castle, stayed on.  Everyone else either Apparated home or caught the Knight Bus from Hogsmeade by four o’clock.

 

Bill had not told their parents about his situation, but now that his name was in the news, he reluctantly agreed to come by the Burrow and explain.  Ginny, armed with her new defense, felt eager to give everyone the good news.  Ron came home Friday night as well, having received Hermione’s owl and assured all of them that he and Harry would make sure Umbridge’s wand was checked as soon as possible.

 

“Ron?” she caught him in the kitchen, getting plates out for dinner.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you staying here tonight?”

 

“Just for dinner.  I picked up an extra job last week to make some money to get Hermione something really nice for Christmas.  But…” he wagged a finger at her, “…you can’t tell her about it.  I want it to be a surprise.  I’ve been telling her that I was working late.”

 

Molly appeared in the doorway and the conversation ceased – at least on Ron’s side.  Ginny understood this to mean that he didn’t want his mother to know either.  Why would it matter?  Was Ron doing something their mother would frown upon?  She stared at him for a moment, trying to imagine what he could be doing that required he keep it secret from his mother.   Ron was an Auror in training – he wouldn’t do anything illegal.

 

“Ronnie, it’s nice to have you home tonight.”  Molly patted his cheek as she passed to the sink.  “Is Hermione coming, too?”

 

“No, Mum.  She’s spending the evening with her parents.  Her mum wanted to take her Christmas shopping.”

 

“Well, it will be nice having you here and Bill and Ginny, of course.  I wish Fred and Geor…I mean George would be able to join us as well.”

 

Ron met Ginny’s eyes at their mother’s slip-up.

 

“Actually Mum, I have to go right after dinner.  Working late again.”

 

“Oh.”  Molly’s tone deflated as she carried glasses into the next room.

 

“Nice going, Ron.”  Ginny pulled out the cutlery, rolling her eyes at his lack of finesse.

 

They moved to the table and continued setting out the dishes while Molly returned to the kitchen.

 

“So, what did you get Hermione?” Ginny finally asked, placing forks on the table.

 

“I’m not going to tell you.  It’s personal.”  Ron handed her another plate.

 

“Personal, huh?”  She managed a small grin.

 

“Don’t go reading stuff into it, okay?” 

 

“Fine.  So, what’s Harry doing tonight?”  She couldn’t help but ask about him.  It was no use trying to sound casual for Ron clearly understood the meaning behind her question.

 

“He’s working late.”  

 

“Like you’re working late?”

 

“No, he really is working late tonight.  He’s at his desk at the Ministry trying to catch up on paperwork.  Being in court all day and all.”  Even though Ginny looked away, trying to appear distracted by the dinnerware, she could feel Ron studying her.  “Things have been really crazy.  We’ve all been working extra hours and I know I’m bloody wiped each night.”

 

“I think he’s just tired of me.”  Only then did she realize that she had mumbled that out loud.  Ron clearly looked like a man caught between a rock and a hard place.

 

“Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of this.  He’s my best mate and you’re my little sister.  I love both of you.  I want you both to be happy.”  Ginny finally glanced up at him and he added as a kind of afterthought, “I’m sure he’s _not_ tired of you.”

 

Molly appeared a second later with a tray of chicken and soon everyone sat down to dinner.  They ate quietly, either unwilling or unable to say anything that would put a happy twist on the current circumstances.  Ron – having scarfed down his chicken in record speed - kissed Molly on the cheek, thanked her for dinner and Disapparated.

 

Soon after, Bill suggested a walk to the village with his Dad.  Ginny could see that he wanted to speak to him privately, without their mother being around.  By six thirty, Molly was washing while Ginny dried, the house all quiet.  

 

Ginny was just about to suggest an activity in order to prevent her mother from going upstairs for another night of seclusion when a flash of the Floo caught their attention.  A pale-faced Mrs. Tonks appeared, little Teddy clutched to her chest, in nothing but a nappy.  She was clearly disturbed.  

 

“Molly, please, you have to help me.  They came to take Teddy away from me.  Please!  You have to hide him!”

 

“What?” Molly asked.  “Who tried to take him?”

 

“Please!  There’s no time.  The lady from the family services liaison office showed up with an Auror and claimed that they had orders to take Teddy away!  I took him and jumped in the Floo.  I didn’t know where else to go!”  It was getting harder and harder to understand Mrs. Tonks as her pleading became tearful.

 

Ginny knew at once that not only did they have to hide him, she needed to find Harry, and quickly.  He would have an absolute conniption if they tried to take Teddy.

 

“Mum, I’m going to get Harry.  He’ll stop this.  You hide Teddy and Mrs. Tonks.”

 

Ginny ran to the Floo and within minutes had navigated the Ministry, exiting the lift on Harry’s floor.  She knew little time remained as she ran down the hall and entered the outer office for the Aurors.  Barreling around the corner, she turned into Harry’s cubby.

 

There he was: mouth opened, snoring slightly with his head flat on the desk.  Ron’s words from earlier flashed in her mind, but only long enough for her to catch a deep breath.  

 

“Harry!  Wake up.”

 

“Huh?” Lifting his head, his glasses turned askew, he sucked in the remains of some drool.

 

“Harry.  They’re trying to take Teddy.  You have to come now!”

 

“What?”  That must have woken him up more completely, for he stood up, knocking over his chair in the process and patting his pockets to check the location of his wand.

 

“The family services people came to take him, but Mrs. Tonks ran.  Mum is trying to hide them at the Burrow.”

 

Harry opened a desk drawer and pulled out his invisibility cloak.  They both ran as fast as they could back through the building and out the nearest Floo in the Atrium.  Arriving at the Burrow, Mrs. Tonks was pacing the room, her hands knotted with fear.  Ginny could hear movement in the kitchen and assumed her mother was taking action of some kind.

 

Harry wasted no time.  “Where’s Teddy?”

 

“Molly’s hiding him.  I have to leave.  They’ll know I’ve come here if I’m not back soon.”

 

Harry pulled out the cloak, it appeared with the intension of wrapping little Teddy in it, but suddenly the Floo erupted in a haze of green.  Harry tossed it over Mrs. Tonk’s head, grabbed Ginny and kissed her.  Ginny realized immediately that this wasn’t his usual way of kissing her; he was doing it to help cover the scene, but she wallowed in the warmth of it anyway, her arms immediately wrapping around him.

 

A loud voice cleared its throat.  “Excuse me.”

 

Harry pulled away.  Ginny was already breathless from their little dash through the Ministry and all the commotion at the house so, she just thought to continue using it to her advantage.

 

“OOoooo!”  She smiled, waving a hand over her flushed face.  “Harry!  Happy Christmas to you, too!”  She turned to the two people standing at the hearth.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  Didn’t see you there!  Can we help you?”

 

Harry caught on quickly and wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to look innocent and caught off guard as well.  This might just be the one time when being a teenager came in handy.

 

A tall Auror, whom Ginny didn’t know, rolled his eyes and offered a weak smile.  She got the impression that he probably knew Harry and considered this scene quite entertaining.  The woman beside him offered a completely different expression.  She was small and thin, so much that her angular jaw looked almost hollow against her face.  Her olive robes did little to improve her pallid complexion and her straight black hair was pulled back sharply, twisted into a neat bun on the back of her head.  If you asked Ginny, her hair was pulled a bit too tight, for it made her skin appear stretched and her mouth curved down just slightly.  A more unpleasant looking woman she couldn’t expect to find.

 

“I am looking for Mrs. Tonks.  I know she’s here.  We don’t want trouble.  We’ve only come to collect the baby.”

 

“Mrs. Tonks?”  Ginny turned to Harry.  “Harry, have you seen Mrs. Tonks?  I haven’t spoken to her in weeks.”  Ginny smiled internally, knowing that she was actually telling the truth.  She hadn’t spoken to Mrs. Tonks, only to her mother and to Harry.

 

“No, haven’t seen her.  It’s just us and Mrs. Weasley, of course.”  Harry leaned in and whispered.  “Although, we’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention what we were doing just now.  She might just go off on me and well…”  Harry winked at the lady, who continued to appear un-amused.

 

“Young man, there is a child involved here.  A child who is in danger and needs our help.  Now, if you’re hiding him, then I’m sorry to tell you, but it won’t matter.  Mr. Fredericks here will certainly find him.  It would be much easier on you, if you’d just tell us where…”

 

“Oh, my!  Do we have company?”  Molly walked in smiling, apron slung around her waist and a kitchen towel in hand.  If Ginny hadn’t known that it was all an act, she would have been delighted at her mother’s current demeanor.

 

“Mum, yes, this is…” Ginny turned to the prim looking lady with a questioning look.

 

“Never mind my name, young lady.  Just hand over the boy.”

 

“Boy?  You can’t have Harry, I’m sorry.”  Mrs. Weasley wrapped an arm around Harry, appearing protective.  “Besides, he’s of age.”

 

Appearing impatient, the stern looking woman turned to her escort.  “Mr. Fredericks, please search the premises for the boy and do be careful, he is a werewolf after all.”

 

Ginny sensed the anger flowing off of Harry at the woman’s latest comment, but he held himself in check.  When he did speak, it was with much more authority.  “I’m sorry, but may I see the order?”  He opened his hand toward her.  Ginny noticed how Mr. Fredericks hadn’t moved, almost as if he expected the interruption.

 

“Certainly.”  The woman whipped out a piece of parchment from her cloak pocket and handed it to Harry.  He looked it over calmly and handed it back.  Ginny tried to prepare herself for anything wondering if they might have to fight.

 

“Fine, you can look, but I assure you we are not hiding any babies.  Mrs. Weasley, why don’t you show…” again Harry looked to the woman waiting for a name.

 

She threw a squinty glare at him before answering.  “Mrs. Bramstuckle.”  Each letter came out with a bite, making it sound like some ancient form of torture.  Ginny wondered about poor Mr. Bramstuckle, wondering if he had ever requested a name change based solely on his wife’s stinging enunciation.

 

“Show, Mrs. Bramstuckle upstairs and I will take Mr. Fredericks over the downstairs.”

 

Molly turned on her cheeriest face.  “Right this way, Ma’am.”  The two women started up the stairs and Harry walked toward the kitchen, Mr. Fredericks following.  Ginny’s eyes darted to the corner where she knew Mrs.Tonks stood shivering in her boots under the cloak.  She whispered in her general direction.  “Don’t worry.  Harry will take care of it.”

 

Ginny felt like she was on lookout duty and kept glancing between the kitchen and the stairs, wondering if she would have to alert one party or the other should something happen.  She had no idea what her mother had done to conceal the boy.  She must have put a silencing charm on him or he was an especially well behaved baby because they hadn’t heard a thing.  Still, Aurors easily knew how to lift and reverse concealment charms and she knew that this Fredericks bloke would find him if he bothered to actually look.

 

A flash of warmth settled over her and Ginny fanned herself for a moment, wondering if it was due to the excitement of the moment or the memory of Harry’s kiss, still fresh in her mind.  No, she had to keep her cool.  There would be other times to fret about Harry and his absolutely fantastic kisses.  Right now, she could hear the ladies returning from the upstairs.

 

Molly appeared to be talking rapidly about anything and everything, probably hoping to distract the lady as they got nearer to Teddy’s location.  Ginny could swear that Mrs. Bramstuckle actually sniffed the air when she reached the bottom of the steps and she wondered if the lady perhaps was an unregistered animagi blood hound.  _What kind of name is Bramstuckle, anyway?_  Ginny snapped back to the present as she also heard Harry and the Auror returning from the kitchen.

 

“Well, Mr. Fredericks?  Did you find him?” the lady asked, looking even more sour.

 

“No, ma’am.  No sign of any baby downstairs.  Would you like me to search the upstairs again?”

 

The woman sniffed again, her mouth drawing down even more as she did.  Ginny scrunched up her nose at the oddity of the woman, but quickly scratched the bridge of her nose and smiled innocently to cover it up.

 

“Humpf,” the woman replied and Ginny wondered if that was supposed to represent a yes or no, but the Auror seemed to understand and stepped back to the hearth.

 

With the most insincere of voices, Mrs. Bramstuckle concluded her business.  “If you see the infant, I would appreciate you contacting family services immediately and we will send someone to collect him.  Remember, this is for his safety and that of others.”

 

It took all of her strength not to blurt out, ‘yeah, right.’  The woman spun around, looking as if a pole had been pushed up her nether regions and stepped into the Floo.  Mr. Fredericks handed her the powder and she disappeared in a haze of green.  The Auror then tipped his hat.  “Harry, have a good evening.”  He winked and in a flash was gone.

 

A loud thud came from the corner of the room and a pair of feet suddenly appeared, poking out from under Harry’s cloak.  Molly ran over and pulled it off an unconscious Mrs. Tonks.  Harry ran to the kitchen, Ginny following behind, and threw open the pantry, calling out several spells and suddenly withdrew with little Teddy in his arms.

 

She must have been right, for the tiny boy had a wide-eyed curiosity about him as if this had all been some delightful game.  Ginny was sure that Harry had little to no experience in holding small children and yet, Teddy rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and Harry started rubbing the little tike’s back in gentle circles.  They looked completely comfortable together and Ginny felt that same warmth spread over her again as if witnessing her future right there in the kitchen.

 

Her mother’s voice called from the other room, asking Ginny to bring water.  Ginny quickly filled a glass and returned to the living room, finding a slightly dazed looking Mrs. Tonks now upright, but still on the floor, leaning against the sofa.  “Wh-what happened?  Did she leave?”

 

“Yes, she’s gone.  Everything’s fine.”  Molly explained and helped her up to the sofa cushion.  Ginny handed her the water and she took a small sip.

 

Harry walked in with Teddy, his fuzzy head rotating from pink to blue to green with each rotation of Harry’s hand on his bare back.  He rocked gently, holding the baby boy who looked nearly ready to fall asleep.  Ginny could have sworn she heard a silent ‘awe’ from every one of the women in the room upon seeing the couple.  Molly and Mrs. Tonks both had a kind of longing look about them, probably remembering their own little ones.

 

“Oh, Harry.  He likes you.”  Mrs. Tonks exclaimed in a kindly voice.

 

Harry spoke quietly so as not to disturb the baby, but his voice was serious.  “They won’t be back, at least not for a while.  Marcus will make sure of it.”

 

“Marcus?  Is that Mr. Fredericks?”  Ginny asked.

 

“Yes, he works with me and we had a little chat in the kitchen.  Mrs. Bramstuckle is going to find out that little Teddy has been carted off to Greece in about two hours.  Mrs. Bramstuckle’s family is from Greece and hence she is going to want to follow him in order to get a little free holiday with her family for Christmas courtesy of the Ministry.  And, of course, they’ll gladly let her come as she is a citizen.  How sad, however, that Greece is not allowing anyone to leave their borders for England right now.”

 

“Oh!”  Mrs. Tonks bounded from the sofa, obviously feeling herself again and kissed Harry on the cheek.  “You wonderful, wonderful boy!  I can’t thank you enough!”

 

Harry handed Teddy back over to her carefully.  “Don’t thank me too much just quite yet.  We still have to get the order reversed or they’ll be back to try again before long.  Professor McGonagall has agreed to testify in the family courts on your behalf.  She is considered an expert in Transfiguration, both animagi and lycanthropy.  She will offer to personally oversee his development and assure them that should he show signs of his father’s condition, she will take appropriate steps for his safety and that of everyone else.”

 

Now that he was free of the baby and standing quite still, Ginny finally got a good long look at him.  He looked a bit frazzled, his hair longer and messier than usual, a growth of beard that she wasn’t used to seeing, his color a little pale.  She suddenly felt ashamed of herself for assuming his absence from her was a result of anything but sheer exhaustion.  It was perfectly clear that he was indeed overworked.

 

Mrs. Tonks appeared near tears.  But, probably due to the fact that she was holding little Teddy, she kept herself calm.  Ginny looked at her soft, worried face and suddenly felt an ache as she considered this woman’s life right now.  Having long ago distanced herself from her two snotty sisters, she had lost both a husband and a daughter and now clung to this little baby like a lifeline.  She tried to picture a grown Teddy, still hugged against his grandmother as she refused to let go.  It was almost funny, if it wasn’t so sad.

 

“I’d better get him home.”  Mrs. Tonks finally spoke.  Molly picked up a nearby quilt and tossed it over Teddy and Mrs. Tonk’s shoulder.  The Floo was always a bit dusty, especially for little lungs and besides, Teddy was still in nothing but his nappy.

 

“I’ll come along with you and make sure you get home safe.”  Harry stepped in behind her.  Ginny almost called out ‘No!’ as she was dying to have him here with her, if only for just a few minutes.  Her mouth pursed open over and over, like a fish out of water as she searched for something to say.  Something to keep him here, or to make Mrs. Tonks stay or for him to come back.  “I’ll come, too!”  was all she came up with.

 

“No.”  Harry replied as he turned.  It was stern, but not angry.  His eyes seemed to communicate to her much more than his words.  They looked loving and sincere, yet concerned - almost fearful.  “I have to get back to the Ministry.  If I don’t finish up this paperwork, I’ll have loads of problems tomorrow.  Just stay here.  I’ll try to write soon.”

 

Ginny felt as if a rope had yanked her back in mid stride – right in the center of her chest.  She wanted to move toward him, her arms ached to hold him – that kiss still so fresh in her mind.  Yet, something about his look told her to wait and she did.  

 

“Let me go first and make sure it’s all clear,” Harry spoke and stepped into the Floo.  Ginny couldn’t help the tiny forward lurch toward him as he grabbed the powder.  She wanted to call out ‘I love you’.  She had never said it before, but the need seemed to burst from her, regardless of how he felt.  Would it keep him from leaving?  Probably not.  Was she just making a fool of herself?  Perhaps.  

 

It didn’t matter.  She mouthed it to him, just as he called out his destination.  She thought that in that last half-second, he had smiled.  It was most likely her love sick imagination at work, but she stood stoically as Mrs. Tonks and Teddy left as well.

 

Molly lowered her head and shook it.  “Poor Andromeda.  She’s lost so much.”

 

Ginny nodded in what appeared agreement, but more in answer to her own mind’s question - had she really seen him smile in that last fleeting glimpse?

 

“Well, I think I’ll head upstairs.”  Molly headed toward the steps and for the first time, Ginny agreed and followed.  Sleep was definitely needed – dreams were in order.

   


	7. Chapter 7 - The Seed of Hope

  
Author's notes: Here it is!  The final chapter.  I have to say a HUGE thank you to my wonderful beta, rosepddle, who took on the task of reading this on very short notice and did a fantastic job (as usual).  I had hoped to get this out to everyone on Christmas Eve, but alas, holiday schedules, family vacations, etc. did impact my original plans.  Still, I hope that this fills you with the spirit of the season and my best wishes for a wonderful holiday!!  


* * *

  _As children we believed, the grandest sight to see_

_Was something lovely wrapped beneath our tree_

_Well heaven only knows that packages and bows_

_Can never heal a hurting human soul._

_So here's my lifelong wish, my grown up Christmas list  
Not for myself but for a world in need.  
  
No more lives torn apart, that wars would never start, and time would heal all hearts.  
Everyone would have a friend, and right would always win, and love would never end._ __  
This is my grown up Christmas list

_-Amy Grant_   
  


Marisa awoke on Saturday and checked the clock.  She had slept a bit too late.  The shop normally opened at nine and she wanted to get there beforehand.  Ginny’s words from the previous day left her uneasy all night and she felt anxious about sharing the news of her impending departure with George.

 

Dressing quickly, she made her way to Hogsmeade and grabbed some muffins before Apparating directly to Diagon Alley.  A few of the stores were open – having extended holiday shopping hours – but the sign on Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes still said ‘Closed.’

 

Stepping under the awning, she tapped on the glass and shaded her eyes, leaning against the frost covered panes.  One tap later and she saw him, walking out from the back room, his eyes lighting up the minute he recognized her.  The door opened and the little bell announced her entrance.

 

“Marissa!”

 

“Hi, George.  Can I come in?  I brought breakfast.”  She held up the bag, still warm and smelling of cinnamon.

 

“Absolutely.”  His eyes rose expectantly and he stepped aside to let her in, locking the door behind her.

 

George looked like Christmas had come early as he approached her.  She returned the smile easily, but once again Ginny’s pained expression invaded her thoughts and she knew she had to give him the news before anything else occurred.

 

“Come with me.”  George guided her by the elbow and they walked toward the back room.  Marissa had been in here plenty of times helping out in the store over the past two weeks, but was surprised when George gestured for her to climb the back stairs.

 

“Um…George.  We need to talk.”

 

“Sure.”  His expression remained neutral and for that she was thankful.  “I just thought we could eat our muffins up in the flat.  There really isn’t room down here.  I don’t have to open for about twenty minutes.”

 

“Alright.”

 

The steps led to a small hallway with a door on the end.  George stepped around her, grabbing her arms as if to keep her in place.  “Wait right here for just a minute.”

 

George yanked on the old door.  It creaked at first, but then a ghostly face that looked remarkably like the owner of this flat, appeared beside it, smiled with a big toothy grin and exclaimed.  “Welcome home, George.  You’re looking particularly handsome today.”  The face winked and disappeared in a wave of white wisps.

 

George feigned embarrassment, waving at the apparition, but she noticed the smile that crept onto his face.  Marissa couldn’t help but giggle.

 

As she waited, the other room erupted in the sounds of clanking dishes, slamming doors and a general shuffling about.  She could picture George, the ultimate bachelor, trying to perform a frantic clean up.  Within about forty seconds, he reappeared, looking a bit winded.  “Do come in.”   He bowed and waved a hand toward the doorway.

 

Marissa entered a small kitchen that opened into an eating area containing a round, white table and four chairs.  The window beside it looked out to the back of Diagon Alley.  Off to her left, a sofa, table and two chairs created a sitting room.  What looked to be several plants which must have, at one time, been alive covered the ledge of the window on the front of the flat.  It was definitely a bachelor pad.  Not a girly thing in sight.

 

George took the bag from her hand and proceeded to grab a couple of plates as she sat down at the dining table.

 

“So, what do we need to talk about?” he asked, putting the muffins on the table.

 

“Well, first of all, I just wanted to offer to help out again today if you need it.  I realize with Lee gone and with Christmas so close…”

 

“Sure.  I can always use the help.”  He smiled again and she worried once more that her next bit of news might result in a much sadder face.  She tried to keep a chipper tone as she went on.

 

“Great.  I’m free until Wednesday, but then I have to go.  My parents are expecting me to join them in Florida.  I’ve got a nine o’clock portkey on Wednesday night.”

 

There it was.  The news was out and she paused a second, trying to read his mood.  It appeared he was absorbing this information, his face a bit blank, but not troubled per se.

 

“Are you coming back after the holiday?” he asked.

 

“I have to be back in class at the University on the tenth so, no, I-I’m not coming back.”

 

He nodded and carefully set the muffin back on the plate.

 

“It’s not to say I won’t visit again.”  She was trying desperately to put a positive spin on the news.  “Or, you could come to the states and visit.”

 

He continued to only nod, his eyes still on her.

 

“The thing is…well…the thing is I really like you.  You’re a great guy and I’m so glad to have met you.  These last couple of weeks have been fun.  I mean, it was hard work at Hogwarts, but the weekends with you have been the best part of it.”

 

Now his eyes began to drift, no longer meeting hers.  If he would only speak, give her some indication of his thoughts, but he only stared toward the window and Marissa did the only thing she could think of…talk.

 

“George.  I’m so sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I was intending on staying here long term.  I never meant to mislead you.”  She slipped her hand across the table and took his.  Maybe it was the tactile contact that did it, but George seemed to snap out of a haze.

 

“Oh, yeah, sure.  It’s fine.  It’s been great having you here.”

 

Marissa felt gutted and she knew that it would be impossible for her to leave him like this.  She had to explain, to leave him with hope.  She scooted her chair closer and took his face in her hands.

 

“George, look at me.”  When he did, she nearly lost her breath, but she steadied herself and went on.  “I’m not leaving because of you.  I can’t stay, but if I could, I would.”  She struggled with what to say, her head shaking as the words tangled in her throat.  “You are charming and handsome and truthfully…I’m quite taken with you.”

 

Her hands felt his lips curl up just a bit.

 

“I know that it’s been hard without your brother and I’m glad that me being here has made you happy.  But…I don’t want to be the thing that fills Fred’s absence in your life.  You need to start living for yourself again.  I can’t be the reason that you get up each day.”

 

“But, you are…” the flat truth in that statement made her heart skip.  He looked at her with such warmth and tenderness.  His face spoke of pain and heart-break beyond anything she had ever experienced.  Marissa felt honored and awed by the depth of his connection to her.

 

She stroked his cheek with her thumb.  “You are so sweet,” she continued, trying to get through to him.  “If you were gone and Fred were sitting here right now…”

 

“No way I’d let him have you.”  George’s eyes relayed the sincerity in his words and Marissa’s throat nearly closed up again.  She had to pause for a second and just breathe.

 

“The point is…” she lowered her hands from his face and took his, “I can’t make you happy.  _You_ have to make you happy.  You have to start living for you _and_ your brother.  If Fred were here, he’d want to travel, invent new things and maybe someday, fall in love with a pretty girl, get married and have lots of babies.  He’s not here to do it.  So, it’s up to _you_ to do all these things.  He wouldn’t want you moping about.  Do you understand?”

 

George’s eyes were rimmed with moisture and he looked down, seemingly unable to meet her gaze any longer.  She squeezed his hands, hoping to offer support.  It had only been two short weeks, but she truly cared for him and it broke her heart to see him living in a haze of loss.  The prospect of leaving him and knowing he would slip back into listlessness was so very troubling.

 

She knew if she sat here for much longer, she was going to cry. Instead she sucked in a breath and barreled on.  “So, I’ll stay and help out these next few day if you want, but if you feel too uncomfortable with me around, I’ll go.  I won’t feel bad about it.  I understand.”

 

Releasing his hands, she pushed the chair back in place.  “I guess you have to open soon.”

 

Finally he spoke.  “Would you mind opening up for me?  I need a little time alone.  I’ll be down in a bit.” He nodded his head as if convincing himself of his own intensions.

 

Marissa rose slowly, still studying him.  She bit her lip, praying her words had helped and not hurt, then turned, made her way down the steps and into the shop, flipping the sign to ‘Open.’

 

*** 

 

Ginny’s Saturday was a flurry of activity.  She tried, once again, to stop and see Harry, but he was away on business.  Ron and Hermione met her for lunch.  She helped with some cleaning around the house as her mother indicated she was in need of a nap.

Saturday night Ginny stopped in to see Bill and then went to Mrs. Tonk’s home for a brief visit.  Teddy appeared happy and totally unfazed by the previous night’s encounter.

 

It struck her on Saturday night how the house still looked so barren and she fell asleep with plans for changing this on the next day.  Sunday brought bright sunshine in the morning, but a storm was forecasted for that evening.  They were expecting several inches of snow.

 

With that in mind, Ginny woke early.  She climbed to the attic and found several more boxes, all labeled in her mother’s neat handwriting:  Christmas bows, Garland, Ornaments, Extra Fairy Lights, Christmas Letters.  This last one caught Ginny’s attention and she pulled it out from under the other boxes and lifted the lid.  Inside rested a stack of parchment.  The top one was obviously written in a youthful script and she scanned for a name, finding Ron’s signature at the bottom.

 

Topping the box, she brought it back to her room and sat down on the bed to examine it more closely.  The first few parchments were letters written by various members of her family, some to Father Christmas, with various corrections and enhancements.  Her eyes lit up, wondering if these were the ‘rough drafts’ of what became their official wish lists.  Then the reality of it hit her and she wondered if these were the actual letters.  

 

A few had drawings of trees and hearts with stick families beside.  One in particular said “To Mummy From Charlie” and had a decorated house and a smiling boy standing along side it.

 

Underneath lie a scrapbook of sorts and Ginny opened it to find more letters and drawings.  All of her siblings had things present in this box.  Each one full of warmth and memories of Christmas’s long past.  Tucked in the book, she noticed her own name and pulled out the letter dated ‘Christmas, 1992.’  She thought back to the year she turned eleven and that all important visit to see Father Christmas.

 

She read to herself.

  _Dear Father Christmas,_

_Ginevra Weasley here.  I know you are receiving many letters at Christmas time.  So, I hope you get to read this.  My mum always says it’s important to be chartable at Christmastime._

Ginny smiled at the misspelling of charitable, but continued.

_I know that I usually only ask for one thing, but I have a special favor to ask this year.  In addition to a new broomstick.  I would really like one.  I was wondering if you could do one more thing._ _Could you give Harry Potter a good Christmas, too?  He has had a hard time and his family doesn’t love him, but I do.  If you could keep him safe for me and help him to be happy, that would be a great Christmas present._

_Thank you and Happy Christmas!_

_Love,_ _Ginevra Weasley_

_P.S.  I’ll leave you the cookie with the green bell on top.  It’s my favorite and I hope you’ll like it._   

Ginny’s heart filled and she hugged the letter to her chest, beating back the emotions that threatened to spill out of her.  Her wish had truly been filled that year and every year since, she supposed.  If only it could happen again.  If only it could be so easy as to ask Father Christmas to make her brother whole, to ease her mother’s pain, to bring back Fleur and stop the war and everything else.  Life seemed so much simpler when she was eleven and yet, the idea of having enough wisdom to ask for something so simple at such a young age – maybe there was something to it after all.

 

Scrambling off her bed, she found a piece of parchment in her desk drawer and grabbed a quill, starting a new letter - not for herself, but for all the others who were suffering this Christmas.  Her thoughts swirled with all of the people she wanted to include, thinking of little Teddy and asking for no more broken families, that wars would never start and that, just as Harry had said, time would heal all hearts.  Draco jumped in to her thoughts and she asked that everyone would have a friend.  Then, thinking of Bill and the horrible things Umbridge had done and Carrow’s reign of terror, she added a request that right would always win over evil.  Finally, giving a small mention of her own desires and those of her youngest and eldest brother, she added a request that love would always be there for them.

 

She signed the letter, folded it neatly and placed it in her pocket.  Topping the box, it slid easily under her bed.  Within an hour, she was standing in the center of Diagon Alley, walking toward the large gingerbread house and the ornate chair that sat behind it – hoping Father Christmas would be there.

 

A line had already formed, full of youngsters, each dressed in their best attire, alight with wonder at their expected visit.  It appeared that Father Christmas hadn’t arrived yet, but Ginny was determined to wait and give him her letter.  She got in line, many parents eyeing her copiously as she stood, childless in the queue.  Within moments, the jolly-looking man walked out from the gumdrop bedecked house and waved to the crowd, taking his seat.

 

Patiently she waited, glancing around at the workers now landscaping the area adjacent to the granite monument.  The Prophet stated it was due to be dedicated on Christmas Eve.  A short ways down, a tree lot sprung up and several side-ways evergreens were either being levitated or carried out by an endless slew of father figures.

 

The cold didn’t seem to bother her at all.  In fact, seeing the rosy cheeks and noses around her, made the chill quite inviting, appropriate to the season.  As she drew nearer, the ache that had been present in her chest for the past several weeks seemed to lessen.  Could it be that happiness was now in sight?  Her thoughts tried to betray her, to chide her for believing in such foolish and childish dreams, but her heart insisted she continue.

 

When her turn arrived, Father Christmas looked at her, not with curiosity or concern of her age or size, but with a warmth that made her feel eleven again.  She almost skipped up to him and for a split second glanced at his knee, remembering how much larger it used to appear.

 

His voice was smooth and full.  “And what can I bring for you this year?”

 

She had to squash the urge to climb in his lap and whisper in his ear; instead she pulled the letter from her pocket and thrust it forward.  “I just needed to give you this.  Happy Christmas.”

 

“Why thank you and a Happy Christmas to you.”  He winked at her and in that second she almost thought he had read her mind.  A flush of heat crept up her cheeks and with a childlike glee she jogged away, feeling as if her heart could soar with hope.

 

Not aware of how she got there, she found herself near the tree lot she spied earlier.  George’s shop sat a few doors down and she noticed the ‘Closed’ sign on the door and considered he was probably on his lunch break.  Suddenly the idea of decorations and hot cider and songs of yule on the wireless raced through her with a need to happen as quickly as possible.  She paid the tree man and started to levitate a large evergreen out of the lot.  How would she get this home?  She had never Apparated with anything quite as large as a tree, but she supposed it would be the only way to get it there.  As she considered her options, a tap on the shoulder spun her around.

 

“Need some help?”

 

“Oh!  Draco!  What are you doing here?”

 

His cheeks were red, probably from the cold, but he looked very happy, the rosy hue making his pale skin appear much livelier.  “I’m working for the tree lot.  It ends up Persephone knew the bloke and he agreed to hire me from now until Christmas Eve.”

 

“That’s good, Draco.  So, are you and Persephone hitting it off?”

 

“She’s missing her husband.  I don’t think she’s interested in much right now.”  He walked around, putting a hand on the tree trunk.  “So, do you need help?”  

 

“Well, I’ve never Apparated with a tree before.  Um…”

 

“Why don’t you side along me to your destination so I can get my bearings and then we’ll come back and we can both Apparate with the tree?  That should make it easy.”

 

“Well…” Ginny considered for a moment the abject horror that would show on her mum’s face if she brought a Malfoy anywhere _near_ the Burrow.  But, perhaps there was another way.

 

“Alright.”

 

“Let’s just rest the tree over here for a minute.  This is our hold lot.  No one will touch it until we get back.”  He waved his wand and a red ribbon looped around the tree, the words ‘Weasley’ written on it.

 

He took her arm and with a spin they Apparated.  A blur of color appeared at the last second and they stopped, almost on top of the town square in Ottery St. Catchpole.

Draco quickly got his balance and looked around at the charming village, lights and bows everywhere.  They lingered only momentarily and then Apparated back to get the tree.  Within a minute, the two of them arrived, tree in hand, in the village.

 

“Thank you, Draco.  I can manage from here.”

 

He nodded and she wondered if he could sense her still lingering hesitation at bringing him into her trust.  It was probably just force of habit that kept that sliver of doubt alive.  However, the optimism which flowed through her ever since delivering that letter temporarily cancelled her suspicions.  

 

“Happy Christmas, Draco.”

 

“And to you“ he offered with a smile.

 

He popped away.  It felt unusually satisfying to think of a happy Draco Malfoy.  Ginny, once again, levitated the tree and began the trek back to her home.  That night she pulled out the rest of the boxes of ornaments, tinsel, garland and bows.  Her father helped get the tree upright and in a corner.  However, after extracting everything from the attic and helping with dinner, she was too exhausted to finish.  At least the tree was up.

 

On Monday, the world was rocked on its side again.  Ginny found her mum and dad glued to the wireless at breakfast, concern and fear etched into their faces.  Molly held a robe around her middle as she sat hunched forward in her chair.  Arthur paced.

 

“What’s going on?” she asked.

 

But the wireless news report continued.  “…reiterating again, we believe the assassination attempt was made by a member of an ultra-religious fanatical group based in the United Kingdom.  We hope to have more information after the press conference  scheduled for ten o’clock this morning.”

 

Arthur had walked over to the table and picked up the paper during the report, holding it out for Ginny.  The headline was bold and hard.

 ‘Muggleborn Claims Responsibility for Polish Assassination Attempt’ 

Then a smaller headline spilled out below it.  ‘Wizarding Poland claims state of war to exist with British Ministry.’  More headlines grew out of it, covering the entire paper:  front, back and interior.  

 

‘Man Claims Muggleborns Unite to Overthrow Foreign Governments’, ‘Germany comes to Poland’s side.’, ‘Shacklebolt Struggles to Prevent War.’  Ginny tried to read parts of the articles, but it became too overwhelming and she looked to her parents to try and make sense of it all.

 

“I should probably head in.  They’re going to need everyone at the Ministry to get through this,” Arthur said, pulling on his cloak.

 

“Oh, Arthur, do you have to?”  Molly clambered to her feet.

 

“You two stay here and let me find out what’s going on.”  Molly’s eyes flashed to her daughter and Ginny swallowed roughly, that familiar tension taking hold of her again.

 

The next several hours, the women stayed close to the wireless.  Ginny read every article, willing herself to understand what brought all of this about.  How could they go to war this close to Christmas?  Who was this Muggleborn who tried to the kill the Polish Minister?  Would there be fighting here?  Would her father or brothers head to some foreign country?

 

“Harry.”  Suddenly it hit her how the ambassadors wanted to speak with Harry and how the Minister stopped it.  Perhaps if he did meet with them, he could put a halt to all this nonsense.  What if he got caught in the middle of it?

 

As if in answer to her thoughts, an owl appeared carrying two letters.  She took them and hastily handed the owl a treat, noting the handwriting on each.  Molly nearly yanked them out of her hands, but she managed to hold on to one and opened it with panicked haste.

 

  _Ginny,_

_You’ve probably heard about the assassination attempt.  It was Carrow.  We know it.  He claimed to be a Muggleborn just to cause more trouble for Kingsley._

_Things are out of control here.  I have to leave.  Ron and I are heading to_ _Poland_ _.  We have a fragile connection with a Polish Auror who says he knows Carrow’s location and will help us, but he wants to meet me.  So, I’ve agreed and we’re going to attempt to stop this insanity once and for all._ _Please be careful and take care of yourself and the family.  I’ll try to be home as soon as I can._

_I love you, too.  I always have._

_Yours always,_

_Harry_   

She trembled with a combination of happiness and complete terror as she read the letter. He _had_ seen her when she mouthed it to him nights before.  He loved her.  But the shadow of distress hung over them so that the joy of hearing his love-filled confession became swallowed up in a mire of unimaginable angst.  What if he never came home?  What if this letter contained his last words to her?  A tear dripped down her nose and hit the parchment, blurring the inked script and Ginny quickly dabbed at it, trying to preserve the letter.

 

Molly sunk to the sofa and Ginny rushed to her side, pulling the other letter out of her mother’s hand.  Similarly, Ron had written that he was leaving with Harry for Poland.  He told his mother not to worry, that he and Harry had been in much worse predicaments before and they would catch Carrow and be home before she knew it.  Ginny could tell, however, the same struggle was going on in her mother as in herself.

 

Except to eat, they did little the rest of the afternoon other than listen to the wireless and hold each other.  Bill stopped in, not wishing to worry Molly anymore, but explaining that due to Harry and Ron’s absence and hence the lack of proof against Umbridge, he was being held over for trial on January 4th.  The courts seemed so worried about the events abroad that they suggested Bill might be needed in the fight and released him until his trial date.  He thought it ironic that they could look at him with such disdain and hope at the same time.

 

Then, quietly and out of their mother’s earshot, Bill told Ginny that Fleur tried once again to come home, but after the day’s events, she could not leave.  He looked as concerned as she and they hugged each other for several minutes.

 

Monday bled into Tuesday.  Another storm rushed through, dumping inches of snow on the surrounding landscape.  The wind picked up and for a few hours, they were nearly in the midst of a blizzard.  Hermione joined them, coming via the Floo and all three waited in fear, the storm raging outside.  The tension remained high with news reports and extended additions of the Prophet spouting news of wizards assembling for training, Kingsley’s continuing talks and even calls for the imprisonment of all Muggleborns in Eastern Europe.  In fact, many were fleeing to Britain, whose borders were still open, trying to escape detention by their own countries.  Finally, Wednesday morning, when Ginny felt so housebound she couldn’t stand it anymore, she left the Burrow, needing fresh air.  The lovely feelings from Father Christmas seemed years ago.

 

Somehow she found herself in Diagon Alley again, deciding to stop in the stationer’s shop to get her engraved wand.  She trudged through heavy snow as many shopkeepers tried to clear their entrances.  It was much quieter this day, fewer people were out preparing for the holiday and it was clear why.  However, life did go on and having ordered the gift, she was obliged to stop and pick it up.  Finished with her purchase, she stepped out of the shop.  Her ears tuned in to the sound of sobbing and she turned to see a figure sitting on the bench outside of George’s store.  As Ginny approached, she noticed the sprig of mistletoe in the girl’s hair and recognized her American friend.

 

“Marissa, what’s wrong?”

 

Ginny glanced at the shop, noting, strangely, that the sign still said ‘Closed.’  

 

Marissa turned a tear-lined face toward her.  “I-I just came to say goodbye, but he’s gone!”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

 

“No, you don’t understand.  I told him on Saturday that I was leaving for America today, but when I stopped back Sunday the shop was closed.  I’ve been back every day.  It’s been closed ever since.  I’m so sorry,” she sniffed.

 

“He’s been closed since Sunday?” Ginny asked.

 

“I did this.  I pushed him away.  I didn’t mean to!” Marissa continued to sob.  “I just wanted to help him.”

 

Did George mention anything about being away?  For a moment, she considered trying to force her way in to the flat and check things out, but it seemed a bit over the top.  Knowing George, he was out on some scouting trip, checking out the latest in disappearing ink or exploding Bobotuber puss.    

 

After calming Marissa down and making sure she was ready to travel, Ginny said goodbye to her new friend and with a promise to check on George, she headed home.

 

Hermione sat on the sofa, reading a book, but her eyes snapped up at Ginny’s entrance and she knew that they were all on pins and needles hoping to get news from Ron and Harry.

 

“Hermione?” Ginny asked, sitting beside her on the sofa.  “Do you know if George was planning any trips this week?”

 

“Not that I know of.  Why?”

 

“His shop has been closed up since Sunday.”  Hermione looked puzzled and then they heard the bedroom door open upstairs.  “Please don’t say anything to Mum.”

 

A voice called down.  “Ginny, is that you?”

 

“Yes, Mum.  I’m back.”

 

Without an acknowledgment, the door closed again.  Ginny sighed and slumped back against the sofa.  “What a Christmas, huh?”

 

“Yeah.”  Hermione agreed, slipping a piece of parchment in her book and sitting up.  

 

The flash and crackle broke the silence.  The girls looked to the Floo where a distorted face appeared.  “Molly?”

 

“Mrs. Tonks?  It’s Ginny.”

 

“Oh, Ginny, dear.  Is your mother there?”

 

“She’s sleeping.  What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing, nothing.  Well, actually, could you do me a favor?  I have to appear in family court again and I don’t want to take Teddy with me.  If that horrible woman shows up, I know she’ll try to take him.  Could you keep him for a while?”

 

“Sure.”  Hermione nodded along.  “We’d love to take care of him.  I still have Harry’s cloak so, if someone shows up we’ll hide him for you.”

 

“Oh, you’re such a sweet girl.  I’ll be through the Floo shortly.”

 

The girls scurried around a bit, picking up anything the baby might grab.  Ginny dashed off to get Harry’s cloak which she had stored carefully in her room, knowing he’d want it back soon.  In fact, it shocked her that he didn’t insist on taking it with him to Poland, but she was grateful at having it right now.

 

Tapping on her mother’s door, she heard a faint “come in” and entered the bedroom.  Molly sat in a rocking chair, looking out the window, still wearing her dressing gown, a hanky clutched in her hand.

 

“Mum, Mrs. Tonks is dropping Teddy off for a little while.  She has to go back to court and didn’t want to bring him along.”

 

“That’s fine, dear.”  She dabbed an eye briefly.  “Do you want me to come down and help or can you manage?”

 

Ginny knew that between herself and Hermione, they could easily watch little Teddy, but the hope of getting Molly out of her room, prompted a different reply.

 

“Well, he is a bit mischievous and should anyone show up…maybe it would be best if you were down with him.”

 

“I supposed your right.  Let me put some clothes on and I’ll be down.”

 

Ginny smiled to herself and descended the steps, the cloak and a small sense of accomplishment in tow.  Moments later Mrs. Tonks appeared with the baby and at least for the next few hours, Molly and the girls kept busy, a brief respite from the depressing shadow of war.  Teddy certainly lived up to their expectations.  He was playful and curious, his little fuzzy head changing colors with his moods and Ginny soon learned that purple meant a fit of crying was about to erupt.  But, generally, he was a well behaved little boy.

 

Mrs. Tonks returned just before dinner, smiling brightly when she saw her little grandson.  

 

“Well, how did it go?”  Hermione asked.

 

“Just as Harry promised, Professor McGonagall came and testified.  The judge asked why Teddy was not already with family services and the Auror – I think his name is Fredericks – he told the judge that Mrs. Brams–whatever-her-name-is had a family emergency and had to leave.”

 

Mrs. Tonks now had Teddy in her lap and was bouncing him merrily on her knee as she sat on the sofa.

 

“Then he asked me why the baby wasn’t present and I told him that Teddy had a bit of a cold and I thought it best to keep him out of the winter air.  He seemed to agree and then he listened to Professor McGonagall.”  Teddy fisted her hair and tugged, Mrs. Tonks leaning in and gently tried to release his little hand.  “She was wonderful.  I think the judge was really impressed.  He told me that he would consider this and make a decision by tomorrow.  He thought it was important to have this settled before Christmas.  He seemed like a real family man.”

 

Molly set a cup of tea in front of her and joined them on the sofa.  “That’s wonderful, Andromeda.”

 

“Yes.  I’m feeling much better, although I won’t know the final decision until tomorrow.  So, I suppose another evening of worry is in order.”

 

All of the women in the room nodded in agreement to that statement.  Worry was indeed the emotion of the day – of the week probably.  As the evening progressed, Mrs. Tonks agreed to stay for dinner.  Having little Teddy around made them all forget the news and the wireless for a few peaceful hours.  Ginny even pulled out a few decorations and managed a start on the tree, although mostly, Teddy just played with them.

 

Arthur came home quite late, spoke briefly with Molly and headed off to bed.  Mrs. Tonks finally departed with a sleeping baby in her arms.  Hermione asked if she could stay over and bunked in Ginny’s room.

 

Sleep did not come easily and Ginny was still on the verge of dozing off when a noise brought her back to consciousness.  She flung the blanket back and gripped her wand, walking over to nudge Hermione from her sleep.  They crept down the stairs, wands at the ready, continuing to hear shuffling noises and occasional grunts.

 

Reaching bottom and with a intuitive gesture to each other, Hermione lit up the room and Ginny readied herself, _Stupefy_ on her lips.  In a combination of gasps, screams and one rather colorful expletive, Ron hopped up and down, holding what appeared to be a stubbed toe.

 

By the time Ginny lit the rest of the room, Hermione had charged, full ahead, arms outstretched and barreled into him.  Ron staggered back from the blow, still favoring one foot as Hermione squeezed the life out of him.

 

“Ow! Ow, Hermione.  Let go.”  The hug now turned to kisses, covering his face so that he could only speak when his lips weren’t on hers.  “I’m…okay.  It’s alright.  Umph.”

 

In a twist of happenstance, Ron and Hermione exchanged places and she was the one uttering a combination of warnings and devotion as she ran her hands up and down his arms, looking for wounds.

 

“Are you alright?  Are you hurt?  Let me see you.  I told you to be careful.  Oh, you’re home.  I missed you!  Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

Ron had a cut to his cheek, but otherwise appeared fine.  “Ouch, yes, Hermione.  I’m…ow…I missed you…too.  Just a little scratch, that’s all.”

 

It took a minute for Ginny to get over the shock of this encounter.  She was thrilled to see her brother and Hermione’s glee nearly eclipsed her own worry, but she had to ask.

 

“Is Harry back?”

 

Hermione heard the question and looked to Ron, waiting for an answer.

 

“Yes, he’s back, too.  He’s still being debriefed.  He’s fine.  We caught Carrow!” Ron’s eyes lit up with excitement.

 

Ginny turned and ran up the steps, pushed open her parents’ door and yelled out in the darkness.  “Ron’s back!”

 

When she returned, her brother sat on the sofa, Hermione beside him, their lips locked.  Ginny cleared her throat and pretended to admire the photograph beside her.  

 

“Sorry,” Hermione uttered and got back on her feet.  “I’ll just make some tea, alright?” she said, trying to cover up her embarrassment, and left for the kitchen.

 

Meanwhile, the steps were creaking again as Molly and Arthur found their way downstairs.

 

“Oh, Ronnie!”  Now it was Molly’s turn.  Ron stood up and his mother wrapped her arms around him.  Arthur joined them a second later.

 

“So, does this mean that the war is over?” Hermione asked, re-entering the room.

 

Ron limped one step and sat back down on the sofa.  “It never really started, did it?  Aw, Mum, you should have seen it!  We got Carrow” he pointed toward his cheek “he gave me this, but Harry gave him what for in return -  and we hauled him back to the Auror Headquarters there in Cracow and suddenly, the bloody Minister of Magic for Poland walks in the door, a whole slew of guards and valets and what not!  Harry and him go into this office and twenty minutes later, they come out looking all chummy-like.  I don’t know what Harry said to him, but the Minister was smiling and acting like they were the best of mates!”  Then he turned to Ginny.  “Before I forget, Harry said to tell you that he’s not sure when he’ll be able to get away, but he’ll see you tomorrow at the dedication ceremony.  He promises.”  

 

After a few minutes, everyone was yawning and found their beds.  There would be time for more story-telling tomorrow.  Ginny’s bedroom had only fallen silent for a minute when Hermione mumbled “maybe I should go check on him.”

 

Ginny dozed, but twice more heard Hermione get up and wander down the hall, returning a few minutes later.  The reversal of care-giver and care-givee struck Ginny as rather amusing and only confirmed her opinions that the two of them were barking mad about each other.

 

Christmas Eve morning arrived like so many before, rich with the expectations of laughter and love.  In the Weasley family it had always been a time to unite, to cherish the family they had become and to celebrate the promise of a new year.  Despite everything that had occurred, every moment of grief, loss or confusion, Ginny still felt a quiver of excitement as she peered at the calendar on her wall.  There had been many sad moments this year, but also many happy ones.

 

Having Ron home last night definitely lifted their spirits and then remembering Harry’s promise, she sat up in bed, anxious to start the day.  The dedication of the monument was scheduled for noon.  Ginny wanted to look her best and began rifling through her wardrobe, a dress here, a jumper there, nothing seemed special enough for this momentous occasion.  She finally decided on a green velvet dress and some boots she bought specifically for Christmas last year and left for the shower.

 

After getting dressed, it was the smell of bacon that finally drew her downstairs.  Ron was doing his usual job of inhaling enough food for an army – well, an army of one.  Molly seemed up to the task, cooking more like she had her family of nine present and not just five.  Hermione sat beside Ron, close enough to make up for the missed time together over the past few days.

 

Arthur scanned the paper.  “It says here that the Polish Minister of Magic is going to be present at the dedication, along with three or four other ambassadors and officials representing other countries in Europe.”  Folding it over, he continued.  “They still have concerns about the Muggleborns running things in Britain, but they have softened their stance a bit.”

 

“Damn right,” Ron muttered.  “We went over and caught the guy that tried to kill him.  I would think they’d soften their stance a lot.” 

 

“Ronald, please don’t swear.” Hermione chided.

 

Instead of mumbling an apology, as was customary, he smiled at her and cupping her jaw, gave her a kiss.  Ginny wasn’t positive, but she didn’t think Ron had ever kissed Hermione in front of his parents.  Molly beamed lovingly at the couple, pausing with a tea cup in hand.  Ginny glanced left and noted that her father was grinning behind his paper.

 

Everyone departed for Diagon Alley at quarter of noon.  Ginny tucked a gift into her pocket, intent on making a delivery today.  Most of the snow had been cleared away from the main street of Diagon Alley, but drifts pushed up against buildings and icicles hung from gutters.  

 

Upon arriving, it was apparent that something special was going on.  The shopping district looked more like a day in late August than December.  Ginny almost expected to see hundreds of children shopping for their Hogwarts supplies.  Only the wide array of red and green dresses and coats and the covering of snow on the ground convinced her it was indeed Christmastime.

 

There was a lightness to the air.  It was apparent in the pitch of the chatter, the laughter and smiles radiating off of so many faces as they made their way down the cobblestone streets.  All of Wizarding Britain had exhaled a collective sigh of relief when they read the morning news.  It was almost as if Christmas had been cancelled due to unavoidable circumstances and then suddenly called back on.  The air offered a crisp, yet homey scent, a mixture of cinnamon and pine mixed with fresh fallen snow.

 

Arriving near that same gingerbread house, Ginny stopped to inhale deeply, the tension draining just slightly from her small frame.  Although concerns about George, Fleur, Bill and her mother all remained, the fact that Harry and Ron were home safe, Mrs. Tonks was hopeful about Teddy, all of these things seemed to erase just a bit of the shadow that had been cast over their family.  She didn’t notice the rest of the group had moved on toward the crowd gathered near the great granite monument.

 

She turned her head in response to a gentle tap on her shoulder.  Her eyes grew wide at the tall man standing before her.  Behind the white beard, his blue eyes gleamed merrily and he spoke in that same smooth tone as days before.  “Happy Christmas, Ginevra.”  He held out an envelope.  Ginny looked at it and back at him, baffled as to its meaning, but he nudged it back at her and she finally took it from his gloved hand.

 

“Thank you…and…Happy Christmas to you, too.”  He winked at her and walked away.  Ginny’s cheeks rose involuntarily in a mirthful expression, watching him resume his seat.  A line of children gazed at her in awe of the fact that she held such special favor with the jolly old saint that he would hand-deliver a card to her.

 

Turning it over, she carefully broke the seal and peeled it open, pulling out a folded piece of parchment.  Her hands trembled just slightly knowing from whence it came and she started to read.

 

  _Dear Ginevra,_

_Thank you for your heart-felt request.  That is my wish as well.  You know, wishes are the seed of hope.  It makes all things possible and hope definitely grows within you, Ginevra Weasley._

_Happy Christmas!_   

Still holding the open note, she looked back up in his direction and found little Teddy nestled into the crook of his red-velvet arm, Mrs. Tonks smiling just feet away.  Father Christmas bounced him slightly and Teddy laughed at his antics, a fist full of white beard in his chubby little hand.  To the right, a tall man, cloaked in dark blue robes strode up to Mrs. Tonks, garnering her attention.

 

Ginny wasn’t sure who he was, but he had a definite air of officiality about him as he spoke to her.  Mrs. Tonks appeared concerned and nodded at him several times, her eyes fixed solely on his face.  Without thought, Ginny started moving forward, curious, but also worried on what was about to happen.  When she was still feet away, Mrs. Tonks threw her arms around the man and hugged him, his face turning just a bit pinker than the cold warranted.

 

Releasing him, she appeared a bit embarrassed and straightened her cloak as Ginny finally arrived within earshot.

 

“Thank you Your Honor, Your Judgeship, um…oh, thank you so much and may I just say Happy Christmas.”

 

“And to you, Mrs. Tonks.  My very best wishes to you and Teddy.”

 

He retreated into the gathering crowd as Ginny approached.  “Mrs. Tonks?”

 

Mrs. Tonks’ eyes glistened with tears.  “Oh, Ginny!  Wonderful news!  The court has ordered that Teddy remains in my permanent custody with the understanding that Professor McGonagall will be consulted should he show any lycanthropic tendencies and receive appropriate training and monitoring.”

 

Ginny offered a hug, which she willingly accepted and both turned at the giggles emanating from Teddy’s first visit to Father Christmas.  Mrs. Tonks scooped him up, thanking anyone who was in view and walked away, kissing Teddy’s pudgy cheeks and tickling his tummy.

 

Hermione burst from the crowd and ran toward her, eyes bright with impending news.

 

“Ginny!  Did you hear?  Umbridge has just been convicted on all counts!  Plus, they tacked on charges of conspiracy and bribery for taking money from the bank to pay off the witnesses at her trial.”

 

“So, is Bill cleared then?”

 

“Yes!  He’s been cleared of everything!”

 

Ron walked up to join them, having pushed his way through the masses.

 

“It’s get better,” he said.  “Not only was she convicted, but she was sentenced to a year in Azkaban and then she has to live as a Muggle for five years.  They took her wand and put a trace on her so she can’t Apparate or use any magic.”

 

“Oh!” Ginny exclaimed.  “That’s just too good!”

 

“Come on.”  Hermione pinched Ginny’s sleeve.  “Harry’s going to give a speech.” 

 

They shimmied and slid between various bodies, making their way to the front.  Ginny’s mood brightened in the aftermath of such good news and the anticipation of seeing Harry grew to a fever pitch.  It had been so long and she had missed him so much…

 

Breaking through the crowd, they saw a podium, adorned with the Hogwarts crest, perched a top a platform swagged in white and gold banners.  Bouquets of white roses lined the edge, a series of chairs arranged behind them.  From her vantage point, she could only see the back of Harry’s head and yet it made her heart play ping pong in her chest, bouncing about from throat to stomach and back again.  He was speaking with several important looking officials, Minister Shacklebolt beside them.

 

She panned the crowd almost in slow motion, picking out faces of those she knew.  Bill, with folded arms, spoke jovially with Percy near the front.  She knew he longed to have Fleur by his side, but she couldn’t begrudge his current mood.  In the center, Persephone flanked Draco, little Emily sitting on his shoulders, holding tightly to his head.  The carols from the Father Christmas display filtered through the hum of the crowd, bells rang from nearby shop doors and the laughter of a hundred merry voices mixed into a symphony of holiday spirit.  This was what Christmas Eve sounded like.  It had almost become a distant memory, but it had found its way back.

 

“May I have your attention please.” Suddenly a familiar voice hushed the crowd and the music stopped.  “Thank you.  Ladies and Gentleman, Witches and Wizards, Friends, Family and Guests, Welcome.”

 

Minister Shacklebolt continued, the crowd now focused on him.  “We are here today to remember and to honor those who lost their lives in the…”

 

He kept talking, but Ginny’s eyes found Harry and latched on, refusing to leave.  As if underwater, the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt sounded more like a muffled murmur and all the figures around her became blurry and obscured.  Only Harry’s face remained clear.  She never doubted the significance of this occasion and she did want to remember Fred and Lupin and Tonks and a hundred others who had died trying to give her and so many others a future.  Still, she had already run the gamut of emotions when it came to those she had loved and lost.  Hearing another speech did little to coerce more from her.  Those days were done.  Her resolve was now set on the future, setting course for a new undiscovered frontier of happiness.  Ginny felt ready to captain her life and yet she realized that Harry was her sail.  Without him, she would remain adrift, always plotting the next course, the next phase of her life, but unable to achieve it.  

 

Through the thick air, Ginny faintly heard two more ambassadors speak.  It was a jumble of political rhetoric unmistakably meant to further their ambitions and put them in a favorable light, speaking of unity and brotherhood in the wizarding world.  Of note, however; none spoke of war or conflict and for this reason alone their conclusions were met with abundant applause.  Finally, the Polish Minister took the podium and somewhere in the midst of favoring the crowd with his rendition of Muggle rights, he introduced Harry, clapping him on the back as an old friend.

 

The crowd roared, their savior on more than one occasion, raising a hand to the overzealous audience.  They quieted almost immediately.  Harry gave a brief but heartfelt speech that spoke of friendship in the face of danger, of loyalty and honesty, of the love he had for his new magical family, pure and Muggle alike.  Then he read the names that had been forever set in their hardened memories, much more so than the peppery rock before them.  

 

At the mention of Fred’s name, a sobbing Molly fell to her knees, her fingers grazing over his etched letters as if caressing his cheek.  Mrs. Tonks knelt beside her, finding her daughter and son-in-law’s name in similar form.  Ginny scanned Mrs. Tonks vicinity looking for Teddy, finding him safely in the arms of a tall, navy robed judge.  Appearing out of nowhere, George walked up and smoothed a hand over Molly’s back.  She sprung to her feet and wrapped him in a warm embrace, almost as if it were Fred standing there and yet she knew it was another whom she loved just as much.  Ginny felt such relief at seeing him and yet struggled not to cry at the kindred loss they seemed to share.  

 

Near the very end of his speech, Harry found her in the crowd and smiled, his voice choking just slightly as he tried to finish.  She wanted to run through the crowd, leap up on the podium and tackle him, just as Hermione had done to Ron the night before.  However, just as in times past, she knew that despite their distance, she was right beside him.  It was apparent in the way his eyes kept finding her as he spoke, at the curl of his lips, the way he stood just a little taller when he noticed her.  Even in her weakest moments, when doubt had tried to seep through the keyhole, she always sensed she was with him, he with her.

 

When Harry finished, the crowd applauded, but many were in tears.  Sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, siblings and friends all poured forth to run their fingers over the names of those who had left them.  The white roses were moved, placed all around the monument.  It looked like some strange festive funeral. The colors of Christmas shone all around and yet the sprinklings of white, gold and smoky stone contrasted the mood.  Ginny considered that perhaps Christmas Eve wasn’t the best time to hold this dedication.  However, as the crowd broke apart, the offerings of best wishes and happy holidays seemed to rise into the air.

 

Ginny tried to push forward, determined to find Harry at last, but bumped into a tearful Persephone.  She wiped her eyes and smiled at Ginny. 

 

“Oh, hello Ginny.  It was a lovely speech wasn’t it?”  Her eyes flooded again, but this time Draco approached and ran a hand over her back, Emily still perched on his shoulders.

 

“Yes, it was.  Is your husband’s name engraved on it?” Ginny asked.

 

Persephone smiled and nodded, tears still running over her cheeks.  “I’m glad he’ll be remembered this way.  He was a good man.”

 

“Muma, Cismas now?” Emily spoke up, looking a bit apprehensive at her mother’s tears and yet obviously enthralled with the lights and decorations.

 

Draco spoke, lifting Emily off his shoulders in one easy swoop.  “Yes, Emily, Christmas now.  How about we go see Father Christmas?  Would you like that?”

 

Emily pulled at his hand, her little legs running toward the gingerbread house and Draco fell in step behind her.

 

“Looks like Emily made a new friend?” Ginny asked as they watched the two run off.

 

“Yes, I think I’ve made a new friend as well.  Ginny, have a wonderful Christmas and thank you for everything.”

 

“Happy Christmas, Persephone.”  Ginny waved as the young woman walked away.

 

Small clusters of family and friends mingled all through the street and quite surprisingly a somber looking pair of blonds, hands folded, stared down at the monument.  Ginny frowned wondering why the Malfoys would want to look in the first place.  Surely, they didn’t expect to see Bellatrix’s name engraved?  How ridiculous!  They hadn’t lost anyone else who had any meaning for them and even if they did, it was highly unlikely that they had fought on the side of good.  Narcissa wiped an eye and that same twinge of shame slapped Ginny in the face again, minimizing their loss in the face of her own.  Yet, they stood there in silence, Lucius appearing more like he was obliged to remain at his wife’s side, regardless of his pleasure at doing so.  Narcissa, on the other hand, appeared quite touched, walking slowly along the edge and reading the names.

 

Her parents, she noted, stood opposite the Malfoys, Arthur attempting to extract a rubbing of Fred’s name.  Ginny looked back, finding Harry buried in a mix of politicians atop the platform and deciding she would find him eventually, moved toward her parents. Kneeling beside her father, she held the paper for him as he rubbed a galleon over it, Fred’s name merging into the parchment.

 

“I’m so terribly sorry about the loss of your son.”

 

Ginny didn’t recognize the voice and glanced over her shoulder to find the source.  She almost dropped the paper seeing Narcissa Malfoy in front of her mother.  Lucius stood a distance off, but his wife spoke with a sincerity beyond her breeding.  Even more shocking was her mother’s reply.

 

“And I of your sister.”

 

_What?_   Ginny flashed back to that conversation weeks prior, of Molly’s torment at having ruined another family.  The suggestion that any human soul could actually miss the blackness that was Bellatrix Lestrange seemed an absurdity.  Narcissa’s next comment only supported Ginny’s conclusion and yet disturbed her even more.

 

“She deserved what she got but I still miss her.”

 

Molly stared at the woman, a blank look lacking in true sympathy and yet struggling with the sufferings of her own soul.  Ginny wasn’t sure the cause, but Molly’s shoulders slipped down, no longer tensed up in grief, her head held high for the first time in months.  Her eyes twinkled ever so slightly as she spoke.

 

“You know you have another sister.  She’s suffered a great loss, too and she could certainly use your help right now.”  Molly gestured toward Mrs. Tonks who rocked Teddy just feet away.

 

Narcissa stared at the woman, more like a stranger than a sibling, then nodded to Molly and walked away.

 

Rubbing completed, Ginny stood up and almost immediately spotted George, hanging something on the window of his shop.  No matter the scene, that brother of hers was going to explain his unannounced absence and she marched toward him, doing her best to maintain a stern tone, although elated at his presence.

 

“George Weasley!  Where have you been?”  

 

George recoiled ever so slightly and Ginny wondered if perhaps she was channeling a bit of her mother in that moment, fisting her hands on the sides of her hip.

 

“You had me worried to death.  How could you just leave like that and not tell anyone?”

 

George raised two surrendering hands, “I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again, alright?”  His apology came with a smile, something Ginny never expected from him.

 

“Seriously, where did you go?  Marissa came to say goodbye and you were gone.”

 

“I know.”  He slipped his hands in his coat pockets.  “I’ll apologize when I see her.”

 

“When you see her?”

 

“Yeah.  I think I’m going to take some time this spring and travel a bit.  Australia sounds inviting and I always wanted to visit America, too.  Right now, I have to finish the marketing on some new products I’ve developed.”

 

He pushed the door open and reached inside the shop.  “Check this out.”  In his hand lie something that looked remarkably like the red-ribboned mistletoe that had haloed Marissa’s head in weeks past.  He clipped it into her hair.  Ginny suddenly felt giddy with happiness, almost to the point of giggling for absolutely no reason and had an incredible urge to kiss Harry.  

 

“Whoa!  What did you do?”

 

“I’m calling it Marisseltoe.  It just brings out your own romantic desires and washes you with a temporary air of happiness.  Only lasts about 2 hours, but I think it will be a hit.”

 

Ginny took it off, although its effect made her want to keep it on, and handed it back to a beaming George.

 

“I don’t understand, George.  I thought that you were crazy about Marissa.  You don’t seem bothered by her absence at all.”

 

“Well, you know what Ginny?  I’ve decided that I need to start living for myself and not just because a pretty girl shows up in my shop.”  George lifted his chest high as if delivering some historical manifest.  “I have dreams and ambitions.  I want to travel, see the world and maybe someday I’ll find a lady that tickles my fancy and we’ll hammer out some kids.”

 

Ginny laughed.  “That’s great, George.”

 

George leaned in, nudging her shoulder in the process.  “Besides, I wrote and told her I’d see her in a few months.”  He wagged his eyebrows and Ginny couldn’t help the laughter that escaped her lips.

 

“So, are you coming for dinner?”

 

“Absolutely, wouldn’t miss it.  I’ll be over in a couple of hours.”

 

Ginny wrapped her arms around him, this time not in solace, but in complete joy at having her brother back amongst the living.  There couldn’t be a better gift than this.  

 

Her mother’s voice broke them apart.  “Now, you two, don’t be late for dinner.  I have all the fixings ready to go and I want the entire family there this afternoon.”  Ginny released George, still smiling as her father glowed, a loving arm wrapped around Molly’s shoulders.  In the distance, Narcissa Malfoy stood in conversation with Andromeda Tonks and Ginny wondered if this was the source of her mother’s satisfied smug.

 

“I’ll be there, Mum.  I need to find Harry and I have one errand to run.”

 

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry.  I forgot to tell you.  Harry said he’ll have to meet you at the house.  The ambassador to France wanted a photo opportunity and then the Minister needed him for just a little bit, but I made Kingsley promise, on threat of Molly Weasley,” she wagged her finger “that Harry would be at the Burrow by 3 o’clock sharp.”

 

Maybe it was the lingering pleasantness from that mistletoe or seeing George and her mother back to normal, but she dealt with this latest blow of separation with relative ease.  Things were coming back around and it would only be time before her own dreams came to fruition.  It seemed there was no need to rush it.

 

“Alright.  Tell Harry that I have to make a quick trip to deliver a gift and I’ll be there soon.  Mum, could I invite one more to join us today?”

 

“Sure!  The more the merrier!”

 

She kissed her mum and dad on the cheek, checked her cloak pocket for the package and Apparated on the spot.

 

Arriving in Hogsmeade, she moved quickly up the hill, through the now repaired gates and across the lawn she had traversed so any times before.  The castle gleamed in newness as Ginny made her way through the familiar corridors, finding the Headmistresses office and rapping lightly.

 

“Enter.”  She walked in, finding Professor McGonagall wrapped in a tartan gown, reading some enormous tome at her desk.

 

“Happy Christmas, Professor!”

 

“Ah, Miss Weasley.  What a surprise!”  The professor pushed back from her desk and rose.

 

“First off, I wanted to give you this.”  Ginny pulled the package from her pocket, the note from Father Christmas falling out with it.  She quickly snatched the parchment in her other hand and held out the gift.  The long box was wrapped in Gryffindor colors, a gold bow over the burgundy paper.  

 

The professor paused, but finally reached out an unsteady hand to grasp the package.  “Why, thank you.  Shall I open it?”

 

“Please do.”

 

Pulling off the wrap, she opened the carved box and gazed upon the wand -  the engraving on the side read ‘In memory of Colin Creevey.’  The professor’s hands shook ever more severely as she ran a finger over the length of the marbled replica.

 

For a second, Ginny panicked that this had been the wrong thing to do, but then, after carefully closing the lid, the headmistress stepped forward and pulled her tight.  Ginny could feel her shake as sobs poured forth.  

 

While still in her grip, Ginny tried to speak soothingly.  “I’m sorry Professor.  I didn’t mean to upset you.  I thought…”

 

“Upset met, dear child?” Minerva pushed back.  “This is the loveliest gift I could ever receive.”

 

“Really?”

 

The old lady dabbed at her eyes and finally rested a hand on the box.  “I will cherish this forever.  Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.  I also wanted to know if you would care to join us for dinner today at the Burrow.  Mum says you’re welcome.”

 

“Oh, that would be wonderful.  What shall I bring?”

 

“Just yourself.  You know Mum, she’s cooked enough to feed all of Hogwarts and then some.”

 

Smiling brightly, the professor hugged the box to her chest.  “Well, I’d better get ready then.  I shall meet you at the Burrow at what time?”

 

“Three o’clock would be fine.”

 

“Then three it shall be.”  Ginny departed, the urgency to get home building in her, driving her to move faster across the lawn, down the hill and out the gates.  The note from Father Christmas still clutched in her hand, she thought back to the request she had made just days earlier and shivered with a sense of the miraculous for so many of her wishes had come true on this day.  With a twist she arrived at the Burrow and ran upstairs quickly, tucking the note in the scrapbook, stowed safely under her bed.

 

Ready to run back downstairs, a noise from the next room caught her attention and she stopped to listen through the door, recognizing her brother’s voice instantly.

 

“…to have something really special.  I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

 

“Oh, Ronald, you don’t have to buy me trinkets for me to know how you feel.”

 

“Please, Hermione, just take it and Happy Christmas.”

 

Ginny could almost see the smile on her friend’s face and heard the rustle of wrapping paper and then a gasp.  “Oh, it’s beautiful.  Is this…?”

 

“It’s a promise ring.  I know we’re not ready to make any major commitments right now, but I wanted to give you something so that you’d know my intentions.  I-I love you, Hermione.”

 

Hermione squealed and by the sound of Ron’s grunt, she had just jumped on him.  A small part of Ginny wanted to burst into the room and see the ring, but Harry’s face lingered in the forefront of her mind and she instead grinned all the way down the steps.

 

Turning into the kitchen, the smells hit her like a brick wall.  It smelt of home:  biscuits and treacle tart, roast beef and…love.  A murmur of voices mixed with music trickled in from the other room and Ginny nearly leapt through the door.

 

Her hands flew to her face at the sight before her.  The room was decorated in splendor, the tree full enough that she suspected it might topple from the weight, wreaths and garland over the fireplace, lights of all kinds strung from every corner and the table draped in red and gold clothes.  She had never seen it look more splendid.

 

The room was full of her family.  Even Charlie had arrived.  Without a moments hesitation he lifted her off the floor.  “Hey Gingersnap!”

 

“Happy Christmas, Charlie,” she exclaimed, her toes still dangling in the air.

 

Arthur and Percy were in the midst of a game of chess, while George attempted to stick some Marisseltoe in Molly’s hair – to which she batted wildly.  “George Weasley, don’t go testing your inventions on me, young man!”

 

Bill was sipping a drink and adjusting the wireless to a better station when a high pitched feminine voice called from just beyond the front door.  Bill paused, mid sip, and Ginny glanced at Charlie, wondering if he had heard it as well.  They all seemed to move as one toward the front door, Bill arriving first as he flung it open.

 

“Beel!”  Fleur was struggling with a snow drift that had manifested itself overnight off the front stoop.  Her legs buried up to her knees, she panted with effort to reach her intended.  Bill barreled out into the snow as if it were nothing but powder and reached her in one giant leap. 

 

“Fleur!  Oh, love.  I can’t believe it.”  He kissed her and they both collapsed into the snow bank.  Her blond hair fanned out over the sparkling white and Ginny wondered if she could actually be the real snow angel that they had made so often in winters past.

 

“Oh, my goodness!”  Molly cried.  “William, you get off her and out of that snow or you’ll both catch your death of cold. Charlie, help your brother.”

 

“Uh-uh.  I’m not pulling him off of her.  Are you crazy?  He’d clobber me.”

 

Ron and Hermione walked out onto the porch.  “What’s going on?” Hermione asked, but upon seeing the two love birds snogging in the snow, she blushed in familiarity at the situation and hugged Ron.  “Oh, isn’t that sweet.”

 

As Ginny stood in the doorway, the sunlight brushing shadows over the snow, a warm hand ran down her right arm and a soft voice whispered in her left ear.

 

“Happy Christmas, Gin.”

 

She knew that voice, it gave her shivers that had nothing to do with the cold temperatures and she spun around to his smiling face.  Slipping back into the house, he gripped her arms and studied her for a brief moment as if he had forgotten what she truly looked like.  Harry’s eyes matched his sweater, the brightest green, more beautiful than any wreath or tree ever created.  His gaze was loving and yet tentative as he spoke.  “You are so beautiful.  I’m so sorry I couldn’t see you earlier.  I hope you can forgive me for being away so much lately.  I know I should have written more.”

 

“Shh.  It’s alright.  I understand.  What’s important is that you’re here now.”

 

George stepped back into the house and quickly held his Marisseltoe high in the air over the two of them.  Ginny looked at him questioningly.

 

“Well, go ahead you two.  I’m not going to stand here holding this forever.  Get with it.”

 

Harry seemed to take the hint and found her lips with all haste.  She swayed slightly and allowed him to pull her closer, their bodies pressed together, the warmth of his arms encircling her.  One hand slipped into her hair.  It was paradise, a bliss unrivaled by any other and all sadness and worry, every emotion but one melted away as his soft lips moved over hers.

 

“Oi, Potter!  Better back off or plan on making an honest woman out of that sister of mine.”  Charlie called, bumping his biceps into him as he passed.

 

The rest of the family sauntered into the house, Hermione beamed at Ron, Bill carried Fleur through the doorway before setting her down, Percy and Arthur headed back to the chess set and Molly rushed back into the kitchen.

 

“George?”  Ginny chided.  He winked and dropped his arm.  “Alright, I’m going.”  And he zeroed in on his next intended victim, heading for Hermione.

 

Fleur whispered something into Bill’s ear to which he roared in triumph, his voice cutting through the house.  “Mum!  Come here!”  Molly rushed into the room, looking flustered at the volume in his tone.  “Mum, Dad, Fleur and I are going to have a baby!”

 

More cheers erupted and congratulations were passed.  George mentioned something about designing a new line of baby gifts and started scribbling notes on a piece of parchment.  The girls all hugged and soon gifts were passed around, each opened with the togetherness of a true family.  Harry sat close to Ginny the entire time as if intent on never being separated again.  When they had finished, Fleur was sitting in Bill’s lap, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he grinned.  Ginny rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, as he twirled her hair in his fingers.  Ron was swaying with Hermione in a corner of the room as the wireless played.

 

“So, did you get your Christmas wish?” Harry asked, admiring the pile of presents at their feet.

 Ginny’s thoughts immediately flashed back to that Christmas so many years ago and the wish she had made then.  The subject of that eleven-year-old wish held her close.  Biting her lip, she realized that this Christmas had brought about the same miracle.  _Wishes are the seed of hope._ She smiled _._

“Oh, I did.  I most certainly did!”

 

THE END


End file.
